Distance
by Sergeant Sunshinetango
Summary: Something happens to split the Nerima Wrecking Crew apart and scatter them across Japan. This is the story of how they come back together. Set about four years after the end of the manga, with some smatterings of the anime peppered in.
1. Prologue

Ranma woke with a start in the dark room, sitting up so fast his head swam a little. The alarm blaring next to his futon made him wince and he slammed his hand down on it hard enough to hear an electric whine deep inside the little machine. "Stupid piece of…" he muttered, glaring as the numbers tried to reform on the little screen.

With a heavy sigh he stood and did a few calisthenics to get his brain functioning on something higher than a first grade level. "Ranma, what are you doing up so early?" Ranma froze mid-stretch and looked over and down at his rumpled futon. Akane smiled up at him, the sheet pulled up under her chin shyly. He smiled down at her.

"Nothin', just gonna go get the dojo set up for the students," he said quietly, reaching down to stroke her hair, "go back to sleep, Akane." As he petted her, she sighed softly and kissed his hand. Her mouth was soft and wet, and she licked the palm of his hand tenderly. He giggled. "That tickles, baby…" she started licking more incessantly, and Ranma laughed so loud he woke himself up.

Kaibutsu, his black mutt, was pressing his tongue over and over again into the palm of Ranma's outstretched hand, one of many of his body parts hanging out of the blanket on his futon. Ranma groaned, and before he'd really thought about it, he slapped himself fully awake with the hand Kaibutsu had just been happily lapping at. "Augh! Dog slobber! Dammit, Kaibutsu!" he shouted, pulling his sticky, smelly hand away from his face.

Sitting up for real this time, Ranma rubbed his face with his clean hand and petted Kaibutsu on the head with the other, subtly wiping off the slobber on the dog's soft fur. "You need a bath, buddy." Kaibutsu looked at him suspiciously and stalked slowly over to the other side of the apartment to sit, as petulantly as a dog could manage, underneath the leash hanging by the door. Ranma smiled wryly and put up his hands in a placating gesture. "Alright, alright Kaibutsu. Lemme run through a few exercises, and then we'll go for a walk." Kaibutsu barked happily, and Ranma shushed him. Kaibutsu ducked his head guiltily, but Ranma knew it was just an act.

Standing, Ranma glanced down at his empty futon and felt his chest tighten a fraction. Akane was not in his futon. Akane would never be in his futon. Akane was gone.

_Distance_


	2. Chapter 1

The morning air gave Ranma a rush as he stepped out of the Maison Ikou, the apartment building that had served as his home for the last week. Kaibutsu was practically trying to wriggle out of his own fur as the two of them trotted down the steps together. Sometimes, Ranma wanted to let the dog off of his leash, so that he could run all over town, but Kaibutsu was an overly-friendly animal, and some people didn't appreciate being doused by dog-spit early in the morning. They had to wait until they hit the woods.

"Ho, there, boy. We'll get goin' in a second." Ranma reached down and situated his running shoes a little better, wincing at the snug fit; a gift from his mother for his twenty-first birthday two weeks ago, he hadn't quite broken them in yet. He tugged the little canvas tag out of the back of the shoe so it wasn't rubbing against his heel anymore, and smiled down at his dog. "C'mon, what're you waitin' for, slowpoke?" Kaibutsu barked defiantly and started running, Ranma close behind. He kept a slower pace that normal to let his body wake up some more before he and Kaibutsu really took off.

The streets of his home were quiet; it was nine o'clock on a workday, and most people had already funneled into the larger businesses that stood seven miles outside of the residential area of Nerima Ward. Ranma lived at the farthest end of the residential district, by Furinkan High School, and away from the shops; the residential area was more familiar than the much-changed shopping center.

He smiled around at the familiar houses. He had been living away at a junior college in Osaka for two years before coming back to his home. His mother and father had tried to get him to move anywhere else other than his teenaged home, but he couldn't. Nerima was just that: his home. Even though it had changed, and the city had moved in a little more, it was still one of the more rural areas of Japan.

"But," his mother had said over the phone, "other places have gone back to a more traditional way, Ranma! You should move to Kyoto, with your father and I; we have plenty of space, for you to use while you find a place of your own." Ranma had inevitably declined, promised to visit, and gotten an apartment in the Maison Ikou, the only apartment building to, so far, move into the residential district.

As he ran with Kaibutsu through the once-familiar streets of Nerima, Ranma felt nostalgia nipping at his heels. The canals still zigzagged through the streets, but the chain-link was replaced with a more traditional, nicer-looking low wooden fence. The electrical systems in the area had failed three years ago, and the government had set about replacing a lot of the outdated equipment; as a result, power lines no longer crisscrossed the sky so oppressively, opening it up for him to appreciate. Solar panels even glinted off the roofs of many of the nicer, and even some of the smaller, homes in the area, subsidized by a greener Japan. There were three new parks, and a Western-style coffee house and bookshop on the corner of his street, where there used to be just an empty lot. Streets had been repaved. Sewer systems had been renovated. The air smelled cleaner.

It was not exactly the Nerima he had left at seventeen, but it was definitely still his home. "Good morning, Mrs. Suzuki!" he called, waving at an old woman, Reiko Suzuki, ceremonially washing her front porch. She looked up, blinking small black eyes and smiled at him from her old, bent position.

"Oh! Good morning Mr. Saotome; out for a run? Hello Kaibutsu!" Ranma paused in front of her, jogging in place whilst she fed a panting Kaibutsu a piece of homemade salmon jerky that she always kept in her pocket for him. Reiko then held out her bucket and let Kaibutsu drink from the bucket with a laugh. "He's such a good dog, Mr. Saotome."

Ranma smiled proudly. "Thank you, I've tried to keep him trained well," he paused, smiling, "he really hated Osaka."

"Oh, yes, that's no place for any energetic young person," she smiled at him and patted his hand that held the leash, "you go on with your run, he looks impatient." Ranma smiled and bowed to her.

"Thank you, Mrs. Suzuki – you have a good day!" he waved to her as she bowed and watched him jog off. Her smile was broader as she continued to wash her front walkway, and Ranma hummed to himself and turned just in time to dodge a recycling bin on the sidewalk.

The streets became a little emptier of buildings as he headed into the wooded area that still resided just outside the residential area. It was protected land, several hundred acres untouchable by the city. Kaibutsu loved running through the woods, and Ranma had to adjust his grip on the leash as the two of them tunneled under the trees. Ranma's breath still came out in rhythmic puffs, and he unclipped the leash from Kaibutsu's collar and let him sprint off through the trees like an uncoiled spring, knowing the dog would come back.

Ranma watched his dog's retreating back for a minute and then faced a nearby tree. Taking off his junior university sweater, barely grazed by his sweat, he wrapped it firmly around the tree trunk, bowed to his sparring partner, and set off into a few easy exercises, the tree shaking with the impact of this fists and feet.

Settling into his routine, Ranma's mind wandered. The forest around him was cool and quiet, save for the broken noises of Kaibutsu barking at a rabbit or the crash of the dog jumping into bushes after a squirrel or some other terrified animal. As it always did, Ranma's mine wandered to Akane.

Tears stung his eyes, much to his surprise; he hadn't cried over her in a year, and the sudden rush of emotions left him slightly breathless. He paused mid-kick and lowered his leg, sweat beading across his bare chest, which heaved with the force of his labored breathing. Akane's face replaced the vision of the stained sweater wrapped around the tree to protect it from his pummeling blows. Her face was smiling, it always was, and he wondered if she was as happy in real life as she was in his mind.

Kaibutsu's frantic barking cut through his reverie, and Ranma turned around, fists instantly coming up on instinct at the panicked noise of his best friend. "Kaibutsu? What is it, boy?" Ranma called, leaving his sweater behind and taking off in the direction of the barking.

As Ranma approached his animal, he heard whispered curses under the sound of Kaibutsu growling menacingly. "What is it Kai— oh, whoops, sorry." Ranma muttered, embarrassed at the sight of two male teens in a tangle of clothes and an afghan in a small, shallow ravine just a few feet below his barking dog. "Dammit, Kaibutsu!" Ranma cursed, tugging his dog away and pulling the leash out of the pocket of his track pants to clip it on again. "Sorry, sorry, guys, go back to uh… whatever you were doin'…" Ranma averted his gaze as the two teens scrambled together and cursed loudly.

Ranma walked away with his excited pet before he could embarrass himself further. The students were on summer vacation from Furinkan, and had no-doubt snuck out after their parents left for work. Two years ago, the sight of two boys tussling together in a ravine would have made him gag, but Osaka had exposed him to too much to be disturbed by the sight. It wasn't any of his damn business, anyway, but it still made him a little grossed out. "Hey, man!" Ranma turned abruptly as one of the youths made it out of the ravine, twigs and leaves in his hair but his pants, thankfully, up around his hips. He couldn't be older than sixteen, and he looked so mortified Ranma had to feel sympathy for him.

"Uh, yeah?" he asked awkwardly as the other red-faced kid stumbled out of the crevasse, the blanket they had been using wrapped around his shoulders.

"Don't uh… don't tell anybody, okay? We don't want anyone finding out about our spot." The first boy said, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. "You know how hard it is to find some… uh, privacy."

Ranma shrugged and gave them a little half-bow. "Your secret is safe with me."

The boy in the blanket's eyes widened suddenly, and he let the blanket slip to his waist so he could point at Ranma. "Hey! You're that guy!"

The first boy looked at his boyfriend and raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about, Toshi?"

Toshi's mouth was gaping and Ranma began to realize what was going on. He groaned. "No, no, kid, I ain't… I don't do that shit anymore, okay?"

"But— you were so cool! I tried to learn all your moves!" Toshi punched the air a few times and Ranma rolled his eyes irritably. "Sato, this is Ranma Saotome, the Red Dragon!"

The "Red Dragon" was the name given to Ranma when he'd competed in martial tournaments in Osaka. It was all on the up-and-up, and he'd only done it to earn money to go to university, but the whole thing had made him a little queasy; violence for the sake of violence was not the way of the fist. His mother hadn't approved, either, and Ranma really didn't like disappointing her, especially when it came to his training.

"C'mon, guys, I don't do that no more; it was just… look, you guys don't say nothin' about me, I don't say nothin' about you, deal?" he held out his hand that wasn't on Kaibutsu's leash, and the boys looked at each other for a minute before shrugging and taking turns shaking it.

"Can you at least show us some stuff?" Toshi asked shyly, flushing. Sato looked jealously between the two of them and Ranma sweated a little, conscious of his bare chest and Toshi's wandering eye.

"Maybe some other time, I've got to get home guys," he tried to smile at them, and was relieved when Sato visibly relaxed; he didn't need to make enemies of anyone his first week back in town, "have… uh… have fun!" and then he ran off, Kaibutsu leaping to his paws and careening through the forest with him.

Ranma barely paused to unwrap his sweater from the tree before he ran all the way back to Maison Ikou. Barreling through the front door he narrowly avoided running into the janitor for the main floor, Atsuko. He called an apology over his shoulder, knowing that he was being rude, and ran all the way to his apartment, leaving his shoes in a small wooden cubby by the inside of his door. Kaibutsu ran circles around their one-room apartment, excited by their run, and eventually settled in front of him, panting eagerly.

Eventually, Ranma's heart stopped thudding so loudly in his chest, and he crouched down and petted his dog, running his hands up and down his furry neck. "Hey boy, guess news travels fast, huh?" He was embarrassed about the tournaments, and didn't really want a bunch of people in Nerima knowing about it. He had no way of knowing if the boys would say anything, but he was pretty sure they wouldn't be able to keep their mouths shut; they were teenagers.

Sighing resignedly, Ranma stood up and set about getting a shower. It was almost ten o'clock, and this was his last day off before he started teaching summer classes over at the dojo that had opened up in the last year. All the money from the tournaments was for university, so he had to have a job to pay the bills, and for his apartment. He really, really didn't want his new boss finding out about the tournaments, though; it had the potential to hurt his chances at maintaining a good teaching position.

If he had the dojo he'd been promised by Akane's family, he wouldn't even have to think about those tournaments ever again.

Wearily, Ranma ran the hot water in the shower and stepped into the spray, wishing he had a bathtub to soak in. It would be nice to just daydream.


	3. Chapter 2

After his shower, he got dressed and ate some leftover rice and fruit for breakfast. He should have eaten earlier, but sometimes he just sort of forgot about breakfast. He was still used to Kasumi cooking for the family, even after this long. Not that she should have had to. Ranma wondered, as he chased down the last of his rice, what the other Tendou sisters were doing. As he was wondering this, a knock came at the door. Confused, he glanced briefly at the wall clock in his tiny kitchen before moving to the door and opening it.

On the other side was Kasumi, holding an infant on her hip and smiling. Ranma's brain derailed briefly, but when she bowed to him, he recovered and bowed back. "Uh… Kasumi?" Ranma asked, stepping aside to allow her entrance. "What're you doin' here? I mean," he corrected hastily, not wanting to be rude, "it's very nice to see you, but…"

Kasumi kicked off her shoes daintily and bounced what was no-doubt her son or daughter on her hip. The infant was wearing a yellow hooded Onesie with a duck on the chest, and was looking at Ranma with a curious expression. Kaibutsu bounded up to her, but seemed to quiet in her presence, like most people and animals did. She held the baby carefully away from the dog and petted him with one small hand.

"Your apartment is lovely, Ranma," she turned, standing in the middle of the room like a ghost from the past in her white and blue striped sundress, the same ponytail trailing over her shoulder, "this is Kimiko. Kimiko, say hello to Uncle Ranma." The baby glared at him and Ranma smiled nervously.

"I don't think she likes me too much," he said quietly, sticking out a finger; Kimiko instinctively grabbed it, gripping it with surprising strength, "hoo, she's got quite a grip there, Kasumi. This big lug is Kaibutsu. Sit boy!" Ranma ruffled his dog's head, and the animal "huffed" and settled down obediently on his haunches.

"He's very well-behaved." Kasumi observed politely. Ranma's smile almost split his face, and he leaned down to peer closer at Kimiko; her brown eyes were wide, staring back at him. Silence stretched for a moment, Kaibutsu looking back and forth from Kasumi to him, and then Kasumi politely cleared her throat.

"Oh, sorry! Would you like some tea, Kasumi?" Ranma asked, standing up straight from teasing the baby with his fingers, finally getting a small smile out of her.

Kasumi shook her head. "No, Ranma. I can't stay long," at his disappointed look, she giggled, "I have to get Kimiko home for her midday nap, that's all. I came over to invite you to dinner with me and Ono tonight."

Ranma was shocked. Hot tears suddenly welled up in his eyes and he turned slightly, pretending to be interested in petting his dog. "At… at the dojo?" he asked quietly.

"Oh, no, I live with Ono, at his clinic," he couldn't look up at her; disappointment and relief warred within him for a moment, "Akane will not be there, Ranma." He looked up at her quickly, and felt pain stab into his chest at the mention of his former fiancée.

"Oh." Kasumi's look of pity made him want to go and politely drown himself, where she wouldn't have to see him. "I'd love to come." He said, trying to put a brightness in his voice that he didn't feel, even though it was good to see a friendly face from the Tendou line. "How'd y'know I was back in town?" he asked, trying to steer the topic to somewhere more casual.

"Your mother called me," he raised his eyebrows in surprise, "I thought you knew we still… spoke?" Kasumi looked concerned for a moment, and Ranma smiled to reassure her.

"Oh, yeah, I just didn't know y'talked about me, that's all." He laughed and she joined in, juggling her child to her other hip.

"Well, you still remember where the clinic is, yes?" Kasumi asked. He nodded and stood from his crouched position next to his dog and bowed to her, deeply.

"Thank you for the invite, Kasumi," he smiled warmly at her, and she hugged him very suddenly, Kimiko squawking when she was partially squished between them. Ranma felt tears sting his eyes again as Kasumi pulled away and shushed her grumping child.

"Shh, shh," she looked up at him, bouncing the baby on her hip and smiling at him, her eyes soft with tears herself, "it is very good to see you, Ranma. I don't want you to think that you have so few people who love you." She leaned on her tip-toes and kissed his cheek in a motherly fashion. "I'll see you this evening, six sharp!" she chirped, heading for the door and slipping into her shoes.

"Of course! I'll be there, right on time!" excitement bubbled up in his chest, squashed quickly as it had come by the remembered look of pity on her face, "I'll bring some saké or something?" he offered.

"Yes, see you then, Ranma – please, bring Kaibutsu; he's family, too." And then she was gone, humming her way outside his door and down the hallway. He heard the soft footfalls of her feet upon the stairs, each one like a nail through his chest.

When he heard the door open and close in the main hall downstairs, Ranma allowed himself to collapse on his futon, tears stinging his eyes. He didn't know whether or not he was excited or relieved that Akane wasn't going to be at the clinic, but he did know one thing: he should never have come back to Nerima. The more things change, the more they stay the same; he didn't know why he'd think all the Tendous would be gone.

He'd never asked his mother about her conversations with Kasumi, the only Tendou he presumed she spoke to, and she, in turn, never said anything about it to him. Souun and his father were still best friends, but the older man never came around when Ranma was visiting his folks, which hadn't been often since he was away at junior college.

Kaibutsu walked over and flopped down next to him with a whoosh of sour breath, having stood by the door until he was sure, himself, that Kasumi was not coming back. Ranma sobbed openly now, and Kaibutsu put his large head on the young man's chest and whimpered. Ranma stroked his dog's fur, silently cursing his own weaknesses; not the crying, not the wave after wave of emotions washing through him and wringing him out. No, his weaknesses were something else entirely; his weakness for the Tendous and their affection, that need for them to approve of him again, for there to be a chance, just a small one, to repair the damage he'd done.


	4. Chapter 3

Ranma spent the rest of the day recovering and shopping for the perfect bottle of saké in the small shopping center of Nerima. Several of the older shop-keeps still remembered him, and teased him about former bouts they remembered from the days of what they called the Nerima Wrecking Crew. It was fun, but painful, to reminisce, but once or twice Ranma felt a genuine sense of belonging in this community. Someone even told him they felt safer with him in the city, which was nice to hear. And they all loved Kaibutsu. "He's gonna get fat," Ranma chided one old man who tried to give him the seventh treat he'd received that day, but there was no heat in it, and the old man knew. The two of them had laughed as Kaibutsu gobbled up the treat and burped, tongue lolling in happiness.

Eventually, he settled on a small, frosted glass bottle from a woman who had been brewing since she was thirteen. She was old and wise now, and she insisted that that particular bottle was the best she had. "Good for repairing broken friendships," she had said knowingly, winking at him as she slipped the bottle into a special red box, "enjoy it, young man." She gave him a discount, and Ranma was thankful – it was almost more than he could afford on his tight budget, but as he glanced underneath the box flaps at the gleaming bottle of rice wine, Ranma was sure he'd made a worthwhile purchase. He headed out of the shop, pushing aside the violet curtain, and untied Kaibutsu from where he'd been tied to a bicycle rack, waiting patiently for his master's return. The two of them set off for home together.

He had called his mother about Kasumi a few hours after the woman had left, and she seemed excited. His father had been put on speakerphone, and seemed pensive, and neither parent mentioned the obvious question on all of their minds: were the Tendous prepared to forgive Ranma? At least, one of them had.

Ranma had always liked Kasumi. In the absence of his mother, she had served as a maternal, and even paternal, voice to quell his temper, calm his addled mind, and make him think a little bit more clearly. He remembered several occasions when she'd let him help in the kitchen, or when he'd help her clean up around the house on the rare days when he wasn't busy fending off suitors and rivals and destroying the very home she maintained. Those times were always so peaceful, so nice, and Akane would join in sometimes, and they always were so at ease, like Kasumi exuded a calming aura that relaxed them both.

Come to think of it, Ranma mused as he headed down his street, Maison Ikou in sight, he and Akane had had some of their best conversations in Kasumi's presence. She had probably seen the… something between them better than anyone else, including Ranma and Akane.

In thinking of her again, Ranma felt a weight press down on him. Kaibutsu tugged him up the steps, eager to get inside and get at his water dish, and Ranma allowed himself to be led, practically dragging his feet. Once inside his apartment, he removed his shoes, hung up the leash, and set the saké down on his low table, all before collapsing at said table, resting across some of the cushions and staring at the little red box, the plastic loops that served as handles just starting to droop.

He felt depressed, that was the only way to describe it. The only thing that had kept him going at junior college those two years was distractions. He'd concentrated on all his general education studies, plowing through his classes, studying harder than he ever had in high school. He'd done tournament after tournament, almost losing himself in the violence. He'd dated a few girls. Gone to a few parties. Tried not to think about anything but the present and the small, narrow-minded goal of physical education studies at university in two years. And it had worked, mostly. He'd been so absorbed in succeeding that he rarely thought of everything he'd left behind in Nerima.

But now he was back, and the old feelings of depression were creeping up on him like snakes, coiling through his body and constricting his heart. He sighed, painfully, and rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling. When had it gotten this bad? How had he not noticed that his entire being had faded away until he was just a shell that punched trees, and ate, and slept, and took care of his dog, and waited until something happened?

Setting his jaw, Ranma sat up abruptly and looked at the clock. He had two hours until he had to be at Kasumi's, that was plenty of time. Setting thought to deed, Ranma walked out of his apartment, leaving Kaibutsu and his shoes behind. He headed for the door at the end of the hallway, opening it and heading up the stairs to the roof. He burst through the second door and took off into a run, heading right to the edge of the two-story building, and then he leapt…

Weightlessness took over for a brief moment before he came down on the roof of the house next to his apartment, landing well despite almost two years absent from the familiar routine. He leapt from roof to roof, ignoring the few shouts of surprise he got from family men and women returning home from work. Students, enjoying summer break at the various parks in Nerima, stared up at him when he passed.

Eventually, he circuited around back to his apartment, leaping from the roof he was on and onto the pavement in front of the Maison. His feet hurt a little, but other than a need for a shower and some water, he felt… really good. The circuit had cleared his head, and he was actually smiling. The endorphins made his body shiver with energy, and he rushed up the stairs to his room, now eager to get to Kasumi and Ono's.


	5. Chapter 4

Ranma left with Kaibutsu at around five-thirty, the box with the saké held firmly by the plastic loops. He was wearing his nicest black pants and the green Mandarin-style shirt that his mother bought for him in China when he was seventeen. The shirt had been accompanied by a barrel of Nannīchuan for him, his father, Mousse and Ryouga, as well as a flask of Nyannīchuan for Shanpu. It was so easy, the cure… That was the last day that they had all sat in a room together as friends. Ranma had never seen any of them again without looks of disappointment or anger on their faces, or in the case of Shanpu, with a look of sadness.

Ranma, in all his brutal honesty with himself over the past few years, never let himself feel good about that day. Ending his curse was not even remotely what it was supposed to be. He never thought it would bring so much pain to him. Shaking his head briefly, Ranma looked down at Kaibutsu and smiled a little. Not everything was so terrible.

Ono Tofuu's clinic was unchanged, except for the addition of a much larger living space out back. Ono was out front, sweeping the stoop and flipping the sign to "Closed." He was wearing the same gi he had on the last time Ranma had been to visit him. Ranma hesitated at the end of the walkway, looking up at the man who had tended his wounds in more ways than one over the years he had been in Nerima. He realized, suddenly, that he hadn't even said goodbye to the man when he'd left for Osaka; he hadn't said goodbye to anyone but his parents.

As if sensing Ranma's presence, – and he probably had – Ono looked up and adjusted his glasses, an unreadable expression on his face as he set his broom against the wall. Ranma bowed, jerkily, and held up the box with the saké in his free hand. "H-hello, Dr. Tofuu," Kaibutsu barked happily and Ranma looked up from inspecting his feet to see Ono coming down the walk at a quick pace. Ranma balked a little at the aggressive stance of his old clinician and friend, but relaxed when the man pulled him in to a tight embrace.

"Ranma, it is very good to see you," Ono's voice quavered with emotion, "you are so grown up since the last time I patched up your face!" he laughed and pulled away to hold Ranma at arm's length, smiled. "Look at you! And who is this big guy?" Ono leaned down and scrubbed Kaibutsu behind the ears.

"This is Kaibutsu, I got 'im two years ago from a pound in Osaka," Ranma laughed when Kaibutsu licked Ono's face, almost knocking the older man's glasses off, "he's real friendly, sorry." Ranma tugged on the leash and Kaibutsu immediately sat down. Ono righted himself and cleaned his glasses off with the belt of his gi.

"Nice to meet you, too, Kaibutsu," the two men laughed again, and then Ono sighed thoughtfully, "okay, let's put this guy in the backyard, eh?" Ranma nodded, and Ono led him around the clinic to a new fence that led into a lovely backyard with a garden and a small pond for fish. Kaibutsu, once off the leash, immediately set about sniffing everything he could, and then settled to watch the fish swimming in the pond.

"Don' worry, he won't eat 'em," Ranma assured Ono when the older man moved to shoo Kaibutsu away.

"Oh, well that's good," they paused, silent; behind them the light shined out from the shoji. "Shall we go inside, then? Kasumi is almost done preparing dinner." Ranma nodded eagerly, already excited about the smells he could detect coming from inside the house. "She's made yakisoba!"

"Wow, I haven't had that home-cooked in a while," Ranma said as Ono opened the shoji, "it'll be great to try Kasumi's cookin' again." Ono laughed as they entered the gaily-lit room, leaving the shoji open to let some of the sweltering kitchen heat out.

The dining area was well-furnished, and looked much like the Tendou home dining room. The kitchen was off to the side, through a blue curtain patterned with cherry blossoms, and Ranma eagerly poked his head inside after taking his shoes off and setting them in a basket by the edge of the room. "Hello, Kasumi!" he called to her back. She turned and bowed slightly, waving a pair of long hashi at him.

"Hello Ranma, almost done. Why don't you have a seat?" He nodded and stepped back into the dining room, letting the curtain fall. Taking a seat at the table, he looked out at the backyard, noting that he was alone in the room. Covered bowls of rice and soup were already on the table, and Ranma set the saké next to some small cups arranged in a neat circle at the center of the table.

Kaibutsu was lying down by the fish pond now, resting his head on his paws, eyes closed. Ranma could see him clearly in the waning light of the evening – it didn't get dark very early in summer, and the dog seemed to be enjoying the last few rays of sunshine as they peaked over the fence.

Ono came back into the room, carrying a sleepy-looking Kimiko in a cute blue dress with white pantaloons. "Say hello to Uncle Ranma, Kimiko," Ono said tenderly, and the baby yawned toothlessly in response, "would you like to hold her, Ranma?" Ranma flushed and nodded, slowly, standing and holding out his arms. Ono set his daughter carefully into Ranma's muscled arms, and the young man brought the infant up to his chest like she was full of explosives. "Make sure to support her head," Ono said quietly, helping Ranma to arrange his arms just so.

The baby stared up at him with wide brown eyes, and just as it had been earlier in the day, he felt like she didn't like him very much. But then she smiled, and he smiled back and wiggled his fingers against her tummy. She giggled and he laughed openly, feeling a sort of centered joy at holding this tiny life. "She's really beautiful," Ranma said as Kasumi came in carrying a large wok full of steaming noodles, vegetables, and beef. Ranma's stomach growled, and everyone giggled and sat down on the cushions around the table, Ranma handing the baby off to Ono who settled his infant daughter in his lap.

And then the world turned on its ear.

"Ranma, didn't expect you to be on time," at the familiar voice, Ranma froze, just about to help Kasumi serve everyone. He turned, slowly, as though looking at who was behind him would make them solid. Nabiki Tendou stood in the doorway from which Ono had carried his daughter, hands folded across her chest. Other than her hair being slightly longer, she was mostly unchanged from four years ago. She was wearing a sleeveless yellow t-shirt from Tokyo University, and a pair of blue shorts, looking like a casual college student. She walked over and knelt down right next to him on a cushion, picking up her hashi as though she wasn't sitting next to someone whom she hadn't spoken to in four years.

"Nabiki, don't tease him." Kasumi chided gently, but it was enough that Nabiki ducked her head a little sheepishly.

"Sorry, Ranma – what I mean is, it's nice of you to drop by," she smiled wryly and leaned over, ruffling his floppy hair, "we missed you, Bro."

"I'm not your brother." Ranma almost slapped himself. Nabiki's face fell, and the room was as silent as a tomb. He hadn't meant it that way, but what other way was there to take it? "I… I'm sorry, I jus' meant… y'don't gotta feel like, y'know…"

"Like I owe you anything?" Nabiki asked, recovering visibly from the initial comment. She slapped him on the back heartily. "C'mon, Ranma, when I have ever owed you anything? You always owed me, as I recall!" And that did it. The discomfort was broken.

The rest of the evening went well. The saké was well-received, and by the time Kimiko was put to bed, and Ranma and Nabiki had finished clearing and washing all of the dishes, despite Kasumi's insistence that she do it herself, Ranma was feeling almost like his old, confident self. He joked with Nabiki as they cleaned up, and he felt a comfortable camaraderie he had never felt when engaged to her sister.

"So, Ranma, tell me; what are you doing with yourself? We've heard all about Kasumi and Ono, the happy parents – let's hear about you?" Nabiki asked when they were settled at the table with small cups of saké, the last of the white bottle. Kasumi and Ono were leaning comfortably against each other at the other side of the table, watching him expectantly.

Ranma held his small porcelain cup in his hands and felt indescribable nervousness wash over him. He swallowed some of the drink, felt it go smoothly down his throat with the after-burn lavishing his tongue – he wasn't a drinker, and after just three small cups of the stuff he felt a little buzz forming at the front of his skull. "Uh, well, I'm gonna start teachin' at Master Gyaru's tomorrow."

"That's that lovely man from Nakano Ward," Kasumi said brightly, a light flush on her cheeks from the alcohol, "he came to the clinic a few weeks ago to buy some salve for his students."

"Yes, he's very nice." Ono said quietly. Ranma withered a little under the attention he was getting. He felt, still, that it wasn't really deserved, after all he'd put these people through.

"Thank you for the dinner, Kasumi, but I should really be going," he finished off his cup and stood up, a little unsteadily. Outside, Kaibutsu awoke at the sound of Ranma moving and wagged his tail. "I hope I get to see you all again—"

"Ranma, dammit, sit down!" Nabiki fairly shouted, dragging him down by his shirtsleeve. Ranma did as he was told, though her strength was like an infant's in her partially-drunken state, and especially compared to his. "We need to talk, why the hell else would Kasumi invite you here?"

"Nabiki!" Kasumi admonished her younger sister and leaned forward, setting her sake cup down on the table. "Ranma, what she means is that although we are very excited to see you after so long, we have something else we'd like to… discuss."

Ranma looked around the table with a frown. Kaibutsu wandered over to the shoji, hopping up onto the deck to sit just outside the dining room. Nabiki leaned over as far as she could without falling and let him sniff her hand.

"We want you to become a part of our lives again, Ranma," Ono said softly, "we don't care how Mr. Tendou feels about you." Tears stung Ranma's eyes, and he looked away from them all, at Kaibutsu softly licking Nabiki's hand.

"You never called, Ranma," Kasumi sounded wounded and Ranma squinted his eyes shut so hard it hurt, tears making a hot trail to his chin, "you never called and told us what had happened to you. I had to learn everything from Auntie Nodoka."

"Why didn't you call, Ranma?" Nabiki asked. Eyes still closed, Ranma placed both of his hands on the floor and grit his teeth. More than anything, he wanted to be sixteen again, when it was expected that he would run away. He was twenty-one now, well past being an adolescent, well past running away. No amount of running would fix these things – running would only make it worse. They were right, he was wrong, he would have to accept this.

"You guys were like… were my family when… when Ma wasn't around, and when Pops was…" Ranma sniffled, unashamed of his tears, especially when, as he opened his eyes, he saw that even Ono was crying, "I loved you guys like a family. I shouldn't've abandoned you, but I… I thought that…"

Kasumi stood up and walked over to him. She knelt next to him and hugged him; Nabiki and Ono followed. Only Kimiko crying in another room broke Ono from the hug, but the two women stayed, holding him. "Ranma, you never stopped being a part of this family; Daddy doesn't make our decisions for us," Nabiki said softly, uncharacteristically warm, "I'm still mad at you, but I love you just the same."

"Aw, jeez you guys," Ranma whimpered, hugging them back when his arms found the strength, "Mom and Pops… they took so long t'stop bein' pissed at me, an' you guys…" he paused, hiccupping a little, "you guys were here the whole time, waitin'."

"Don't flatter yourself," Nabiki laughed, leaning away to punch him in the arm, "we missed you, though, Bro. Things sure got boring around here when you left." Ranma laughed and Kasumi finally pulled away to tousle his hair until he playfully swatted her hands away.

Everything seemed brighter, better than it had in four long years, but there was still something missing. And he knew that the Tendou sisters, and Ono, knew it as well. Akane.


	6. Chapter 5

They talked for an hour or two more, about Ranma's adventures at Osaka – he left out the tournaments, but Ono mentioned them casually, and Nabiki had admitted to making some money off of betting on him. Everyone laughed at that, but Ranma felt slightly silly; even when he didn't know it, Nabiki was making a yen off of him.

No one mentioned Akane the entire rest of the visit, and for that Ranma was thankful. As he left, a tired and bored Kaibutsu in tow, Ranma promised to come back to Kasumi's home for dinner every Sunday. They hugged, and she made him promise to also tell his mother how "lovely it would be if she came to visit, and see little Kimiko." Ranma obliged her.

He'd walked home with a lighter step than when he'd left, and sank onto his futon after getting ready for bed, exhausted emotionally and physically. Kaibutsu was still curled around him the next morning, and Ranma had to fight to get out the door the dog wanted to go on a walk so badly. He managed to make it to work, however, with minimal slobber.

Master Gyaru's dojo was large, and sat in between a teashop and a small noodle shop that Ranma didn't recognize. It was at the farther edge of the shopping district of town, but not so far that he couldn't make it there in a few minutes by jogging. Ranma stepped inside, respectfully removing his shoes and bowing to the small dojo shrine by the door before he glanced around.

The floor was tatami mats, as would be expected, but the walls of the dojo were padded save for the front shoji. The sign that had been hanging outside the door, marketing the dojo and its proprietor, had a twin inside, in a place of honor over a weapons rack. An older bald man was standing in front of said sign, rearranging some weights beside the weapons rack.

"Good morning," Ranma called out across the large room, glancing at the clock; seven fifty-five, he definitely wasn't late, good, "I'm Ranma Saotome, the student assistant?"

The older man turned and smiled. He was almost as tall as Ranma, and his eyes were covered by small, round glasses. The uniformity of his stark white gi was broken only by a black belt with several roses embroidered across one end. "Ah, hello Ranma, I'm Master Eido Gyaru; Professor Midori called me just a few minutes ago to ask if you were still going to be working for me."

Ranma smiled good-naturedly. "And what'd you tell her, Master Gyaru?"

"Well, I said, 'he hasn't shown up yet, but when he does, I'll be sure to put him to work,'" Eido smirked and motioned to the weights he'd been organizing, "and that's just what I'm going to do. Would you mind organizing these? Our first wave of students should be along in a few minutes." Ranma bowed to him and did as he was told, settling himself in front of the weights and cinching the belt of his yellow gi tighter.

The rest of the day passed swiftly. Ranma forgot all about his worries about the tournaments he'd been involved in, in Osaka. As he watched Master Gyaru and assisted him with his students, he liked to imagine that the old man would understand a martial artist just trying to get some money to improve himself.

But… then again, Master Gyaru could tell that Ranma was not an average martial artist, and fighting in rinky-dink tournaments against weaker opponents was not honorable. Ranma felt conflicted all day, wanting to tell Master Gyaru about the tournaments, and at the same time fearful of what his honesty could cost him. Professor Midori, the woman who had opened up Ranma to the idea of becoming a student-teacher for a Master whilst he was going through his physical education major, had obviously not told Master Gyaru about the tournaments, but then again… perhaps she didn't understand the significance? She was just a chemistry teacher, after all.

As Ranma cleaned up after the last of the students, he sighed and steeled himself. No, he had to tell Master Gyaru. Honesty was the very basis of who he was trying to become. Setting thought to deed, Ranma paused in sweeping the tatami and turned to look at Master Gyaru. "Master—"

"Ah, Mr. Saotome, we found you at last." Ranma started and turned at the intrusion. Standing at the shoji, flanked by two tall, almost twin-like men in expensive suits, was a young man, probably a few years older than Ranma. His long black hair was pulled back in a tight braid, and he had eerily bright green eyes. He was handsome, if you were in to greasy, expensively-dressed men.

Ranma wasn't, and he also wasn't impressed.

The young man ashed the cigarette he was smoking outside the dojo's open doors and handed it to one of his silent suit-men, who put the cigarette out on his hand. Ranma rolled his eyes: you didn't learn how to pull chestnuts out of an open flame with your bare hands and then go around being intimidated by thugs' tolerance for a little singeing. "My name is Ichiro Arai; I'm here on behalf of a very prestigious fighting organization. We saw your performance in the Osaka Regionals, and we'd like to recruit you, Mr. Saotome for a more… difficult and private tournament."

Ranma frowned and opened his mouth to tell Ichiro where he could stick his tournament invitation, but Master Gyaru beat him to it, after a fashion. "I'm so sorry, gentlemen, but as you can see, we are closed for the evening." And then he just stared at the small group of men, expectantly.

Ichiro snorted and rudely stepped inside without taking off his expensive loafers. Ranma half-snarled and the transgression and stepped in front of his new boss. "Hey, where do you get off, buddy? Just get outta here; I don't want nothin' to do with no stupid tournament, okay? Jus' get outta here."

Ichiro's expression darkened and he moved to his hip, touching the hilt of something sticking out of his trousers. Ranma realized very suddenly that the man he was staring at was carrying a concealed weapon, and what that probably meant: gangster, or worse, yakuza. Master Gyaru seemed unfazed, however, and he demonstrated this by pushing Ranma gently to the side and pointing out the door, behind Ichiro's back. "Please leave, guest, as you are not welcome here."

Ichiro sneered at Master Gyaru and tossed a look of contempt Ranma's way for good measure. "C'mon boys, let's go. There's nothing of use here anyway." And then he strolled out, his thugs following him with noncommittal glances inside the dojo. One of them kicked the shoji as he passed, tearing some of the stiffened rice paper.

"Oh shit!" Ranma gasped, rushing over to inspect the damage. "I'm so sorry, Master Gyaru, I'll pay to have it fixed," he turned and prostrated himself before the older man.

"Get up, Ranma," Master Gyaru said firmly; Ranma stood, unable to meet the older man's gaze, a flush of shame creeping up his collar, "I knew all about the tournaments in Osaka, young Master." Ranma's breath hitched a little at the honorable term. "You are a more capable fighter than me, but you are not a teacher, not yet. Those tournaments were a way to find yourself; every artist goes through a dark period. Painters, writers, and fighters." Ranma looked up and smiled slightly, bowing deeply. When he righted, Master Gyaru bowed to him in return. "I am honored to have your assistance in my dojo."

"Thank you," Ranma breathed; Master Gyaru might not have been as powerful as Ranma, but he knew wisdom when he saw it; after all, he'd seen enough of the opposite in his lifetime to fill a swimming pool, "thank you for your understanding."

"Nonsense! Come, let's get out of here and go home, hm? My wife is waiting for me, and I'm sure you have some pretty young thing waiting around for you somewhere, eh?" Master Gyaru smiled happily and patted Ranma on the shoulder, oblivious to the young man's discomfort.

"Yeah, right," Ranma laughed a little and turned out the lights, swathing the dojo in darkness. He stepped outside and Master Gyaru slid the shoji closed and pulled a metal gate down over them, locking the whole dojo up securely with a padlock. It was four in the afternoon, and the sun was blazing down on them. The dojo had been air-conditioned, and now, out in the heat, Ranma immediately broke out into a sweat.

"Enjoy the rest of your day, and I look forward to seeing you bright and early, tomorrow, hm?" Master Gyaru bowed and Ranma returned the gesture before turning on his heel and setting off for home at a jog.

His neighbor, Hitomi Watanabe, had promised to let Kaibutsu out to the bathroom, and take him for a walk, but Ranma knew that the dog would need lots of play time once he got home. The animal hadn't been home alone since they lived in Osaka, and every summer he'd come with Ranma to his parents' and was allowed to run on their property, free from leash laws.

He jogged down the street, hopping onto the much narrower wooden fence next to the canal. Teetering for a moment, he frowned as he regained his balance – he needed more practice; running around Osaka with the Parkour kids was good for his balance and agility, but Osaka did not have many slender wooden fences.

As he picked up the pace, Ranma did some hard thinking; it had never come easy to him, but he'd been trying to think things through, lately. Ichiro could be yakuza, he could also be just a common thug; there was no telling for sure, without more evidence. Regardless, he had men who worked for him, and he wanted something, and he was walking around with a damn knife in his pants. Ichiro thought himself something not to be trifled with, and that made Ranma cautious, at the very least. Especially when he knew what Ranma was capable of, having seen the "Red Dragon" in action. Ranma winced at the name – cheesy and over-the-top, like a pro-wrestler.

As if to put an exclamation mark on Ranma's already-falling mood, when he hopped off of the fence and rounded the corner at the end of his street, he saw a sight so horrifying, he almost turned and ran back the way he'd come.

Crowded around the front of his apartment were at least twenty or thirty teenagers. Hitomi was at the top of the stairs, clutching Kaibutsu's leash to her chest as he alternated between barking and sniffing at the youths clogging up the steps. Spotting him before he could turn and run, Hitomi waved at him frantically with her free hand and shouted, "Mr. Saotome! Mr. Saotome!"

Every single teenager whipped their head around, and several girls squealed with delight at spotting him.

"It's him!"

"It's the Red Dragon!"

"Look! He looks just like a real fighter!"

"Ooh, he's all sweaty!"

Ranma gulped and headed towards his apartment with the steps of someone heading up to a hangman's noose, just less excited.

"Mr. Saotome, I'm so sorry, I don't even know where they came from!" Hitomi shouted as Ranma was assailed on all sides by youths begging him for his autograph, asking to feel his muscles, and encouraging him to show them some of what they called his "signature moves."

Ranma did not have many "signature moves" that he could perform without maiming some of them, so he opted for a move his father showed him once: "Saotome Art of Running the Hell Away."

He leapt up and over the heads of the kids, bounced off of the low cement wall that served as the stair railing, and threw the front door open, shoving Hitomi and a now-furiously-barking Kaibutsu ahead of him before he went inside himself and, for good measure, put a heavy metal trashcan in front of the doors.

"Mr. Saotome," he turned to Hitomi, and the middle-aged homemaker pointed shyly at the doors, "those open… out; the trashcan won't help."

Ranma groaned and hung his head. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Watanabe; I didn't think those two boys—" he paused, remembering that Hitomi was a bit more conservative and… delicate than him, "I mean, some kids musta seen me an' spread the word around." Hitomi smiled weakly, flinching a little as the kids outside started chanting Ranma's tournament moniker.

"It's alright – but, um, how will you walk Kaibutsu?" she looked down at his dog, concern etched on her dowdy features. Ranma looked morosely down at his best friend and sighed, shaking his head.

"I can't jus' not walk him," suddenly, he wished he was still cursed. He could go around in disguise, walk Kaibutsu and say he was Ranma Saotome's neighbor, but then he thought the better of that. Going around in disguise had gotten him in more trouble than it was really worth, and missing his curse was just stupidity. "I'll jus' have t'deal with 'em. Maybe Kaibutsu will scare 'em off a bit, eh?"

Hitomi shrugged and handed him the leash. "Just be careful – you know how rambunctious teenagers can be," she sighed ruefully, "I'm not excited for the day that Kyoya becomes a teenager." Kyoya was her son; he was only ten, but he was already a rowdy little kid. Luckily, he thought Ranma was a boring adult and ignored him in favor of running around outside.

"Thanks for lookin' after him, Mrs. Watanabe," he tilted slightly and she did a half-curtsey before turning and shuffling back up the stairs. She looked once over her shoulder and clucked her tongue as he moved the can out of the way and steeled himself.

The kids had stopped chanting a few moments ago, but as soon as he came outside, still in his sweaty assistant's gi, they took it up again. Ranma held up his hands and frowned, Kaibutsu wriggling impatiently next to him, having been denied his walk once already. He looked down briefly at his dog and an idea formed in his head. "Look, tell ya' what, guys," he said with the easy smile that had charmed so many women when he was a teenager, and melted them now that he was an adult, whether he liked it or not, "whoever volunteers to walk Kaibutsu when I'm at work, gets my autograph."

Every hand shot up and the crowd of kids went nuts. Ranma put his hands up again for silence, waiting until they quieted. "Okay, okay; look, he's gotta be walked once a day while I'm at work. My neighbor lets him out for his business, but you guys," he nodded at all of them, "gotta walk 'im before four in the afternoon."

"I'll do it! I'll do it every day!" one kid shouted.

"No, me, me!"

"Please, I'll walk your dog so much he'll… he'll…!"

"Slow down! Slow down! Everyone can walk him," every kid looked a little puzzled, and Ranma put on a face of great wisdom, "you can take turns." Kaibutsu sat down on his haunches and yawned impatiently, and Ranma patted his head, willing him to not be irritated.

"Okay, guys, c'mon over here!" One kid took charge after a few moments of silence, and they set about forming a schedule for who got to walk Kaibutsu and when. Soon, every kid was set up, and Kaibutsu was getting two walks a day.

"Alright! Y'can sign in with Mrs. Watanabe at the front door, an' she'll give you Kaibutsu, an' then y'sign out when he's had a good walk," Ranma smiled and took the list of names, days, and times from the shaking hand of the organized youth; she was a pretty girl, with large glasses, and Ranma gave her a wink that made her blush. "If everyone comes on time all summer, y'all get autographs an' maybe…" he took on an intense countenance and punched the cement railing, leaving a small dent that he hoped the owner wouldn't notice, "I'll show ya' some moves." The teens "ooh'd" and "aah'd" and, thankfully, let him pass to take his dog on a walk, the schedule tucked triumphantly under one arm.

Saotome Art of Anything Goes Teenager Subduing.


	7. Chapter 6

The next month went by in a flash of color and sound. Master Gyaru was an excellent teacher, even if his abilities were well below Ranma's. He learned more about teaching and patience in those weeks than he had in twenty-one years from his own father. The Tendou-Tofuu household welcomed him every Sunday, and his parents even came up from Kyoto once, to sit down with Kasumi, Nabiki, and Ono for the first time in four long years, and to see little Kimiko. All in all, the days passed smoothly, and Ranma's spirits began to lift. Kaibutsu was so exhausted from his two-a-day walks by the time Ranma got home in the afternoons or evenings, that the dog barely even seemed excited about his third, and so Ranma was able to spend his evenings helping out Mrs. Watanabe before her husband got home. Sometimes he would eat dinner with them, other times he'd make a quiet meal for him and his dog.

And even though seeing the elder Tendou sisters, and Ono, made him miss Akane so much his chest felt like it was going to cave in, Ranma was happier than he had been in a long time. His father, even, seemed to be warmer towards him, calling him a few days a week just to check in, leaving off on some of his usual gibes. His mother was just as flighty and concerned and a worry-wart, but at the best of times, she seemed to be relaxing, seemed to be prouder of him.

On the last day of his fifth week working for Master Gyaru, Ranma, at the end of the day, was closing up the dojo by himself for the first time. Master Gyaru had left a few minutes early, insisting that Ranma was ready to do the closing himself. He'd already opened a few times, and felt a strange, silly excitement at being trusted with making sure the dojo was secure. They'd started teaching night classes as it got hotter, to conserve energy in the cooler evenings, and it was almost eleven o'clock by the time Master Gyaru had left.

After he'd triple-checked that everything was cleaned and put away, Ranma slid the shoji closed and pulled down the gate. Master Gyaru had added a second padlock, to the top, and he had to reach high to get it after bending low to get the one at the bottom. As he clicked the second padlock, he thought he heard a noise, like a shout.

Ranma paused, standing on his tiptoes, arms and hands tensed where they rested around the securely-locked padlock.

There it was again, definitely a shout. Ranma knew what kind of a shout it was; he'd heard it enough times to recognize the cadence, the level of pain. Someone, somewhere nearby, was being punched in the gut.

Training his ears on where the sound had come from, Ranma took off at a run. The streets of Nerima were quiet and empty; he ran into no one as he ran, leaping onto the low roof of a butcher's shop and listening, straining to hear.

The dull, thumping sounds of boots and blunt instruments hitting flesh. Ranma grit his teeth and leapt down from the roof, took a left down a street, and slid to a stop in front of a dead-end alley where he had found himself many a times in his youth, cornered by his numerous fiancées.

At the end of this alley, barely seen in the moonlight, were a tight group of three people pummeling something meaty and limp on the ground. Blood was shining around the body they were pounding on, and the redness was already congealing and sticking to their feet. Their rhythmic breaths of exertion were quiet in the night, and the sounds of pieces of wood and pipe hitting flesh rang soft against the alley walls.

Ranma absorbed all of this in a half-second, and then leapt into action. He shouted a kiai, meant to distract and surprise, and went for the first standing man. Moving with the speed of a striking snake, Ranma put his elbow in a joint-lock as it raised up to bring some blunt instrument down on the thug's prone victim. The man shouted in pain, dropping his wooden plank, and Ranma continued moving, pulling the man's arm down by his side and twisting to grab the next thug by the wrist. Using their arms for leverage, Ranma aimed a front ball kick at the third thug's open chest, knocking him back against the alley's wall and sending the wooden bat he was wielding clattering noisily onto the ground. He felt a crack in the wrist of the thug to his right, and almost smiled with satisfaction as the man screamed in pain.

The two men were shouting incoherently now as they scrabbled at the hands that held their limbs as tight as the mouth of a predator. Ranma kept moving with his kick, moving through where Baseball Bat had been to plant his feet against the wall. He bent his knees, dragging the other two men with him, and forced them head-first into the wall next to his feet. Before they fell to the ground, Ranma let go of their limbs and put his hands on their heads, pushing them into the wall and launching himself back and away at the same time, landing easily just at the head of their victim.

It took about six seconds, and before any of them could recover, Ranma picked up the lead pipe one of them had been using and pointed it at Baseball Bat, who was in a tangled heap with the other two. He was wheezing, trying to suck air into lungs suddenly pummeled by a pair of feet attached to legs like corded steel. Ranma glared at him, aware of the ferocity in his face and the twitching in his limbs. "Y'got a cell phone?" The man nodded and pulled it out.

Ranma flipped open the large device and dialed the Nerima police. "Yeah, there's some guys here beatin' some guy to a pulp, better git over here; they're in the alley next to the bookstore." He flipped the phone closed and flicked it expertly right into the forehead of Baseball Bat. The man winced.

"You're going to regret this, Saotome," the thug said, and his partners groaned in response. Ranma wasn't surprised they knew who he was, and he didn't care. Kneeling down, he felt the pulse on the neck of their victim, and felt only cooling flesh. Gritting his teeth, Ranma dared a look at him.

Saw the bald head shining in the moonlight.

Saw the white gi stained crimson.

Saw the smashed glasses.

Saw and almost vomited.

"No, no, no, no, you… you fuckers!" Ranma lashed out with the pipe, hitting the thug who had spoken first, coming down hard enough on his shoulder to hear a pop. The man screamed wordlessly, and Ranma ignored him and moved onto the next man, breaking one of his legs. Dropping the pipe, Ranma resumed his vengeance, forgetting himself in the violence, forgetting everything but what he had caused.

He didn't know when he stopped; he only remembered a sudden pain in his face, his eyes, and then a bright light, and a hard, cold surface underneath his back. Ranma sat up abruptly and cried out, clawing briefly at his eyes as he remembered and felt the after-affects the stinging pain of the pepper spray. It all came back in a rush as his body recovered and he burst into tears, washing out most of the searing agony from his eyes in the process.

After a few moments he hung his head and sniffled pathetically, feeling more ashamed of himself than he had in a long time. "Okay, calm down there son," Ranma looked up quickly at the speaker and looked around in surprise; he wasn't in a cell. His vision was blurred, and he felt half-blind, but he could tell that he was in an office of some kind, "You're okay, now. They ain't gonna hurt your friend anymore."

"Fuck," Ranma cursed, standing, looking white-faced at the blood on his arms and staining his gi, "did… did I…"

"If you'd killed someone, do you think you'd be lounging around on a bench in my office?" the officer in front of him was fat, balding, but had kindness etched deep in the lines on his face. His office was sparse and mostly empty, save for a few metal cabinets, the bench Ranma had lying been on, and a desk piled with papers and a computer. Ranma relaxed visibly, and sighed.

"I still hurt them, that's not what I'm supposed to— oh, god… Eido, Master Gyaru," Ranma whined in his throat and collapsed back onto the hard metal bench, feeling new sobs well up in his throat.

"We knew who you were almost right after we had to spray you," the officer sounded very tired, and Ranma wondered stupidly what time it was, "c'mon, let's get you over to the washroom and get your eyes cleaned out proper."

"Thank you, Officer…"

"Miike, Officer Miike; you can call me Kenichi," Kenichi smiled at him and led him out of his office and between a few rows of desks. Policemen looked up at Ranma and nodded politely at him, some with looks of awe or confusion on their faces. Ranma could only squint in the bright lights and resist the urge to scrub at his eyes.

Kenichi pushed him into the bathroom gently and turned on the sink. Then he left Ranma to clean out his eyes. The cold water did wonders to wake him out of his stupor of shame and agony, and Ranma opened his eyes and tilted his head to the side, letting the water rush across his still-burning face.

He had hurt someone out of anger. He was no better than them.

But he'd been trying to protect the weak, that was what a martial artist was supposed to do.

Was there any place left for honor when people like that roamed the streets?

Sighing, Ranma continued to let the water pour over his face; even after being cured for four years, he still wasn't used to have cold water on his skin and not feel the accompanying tingle that told him the change was happening.

"Ranma, there's someone here to pick you up," Kenichi knocked on the bathroom door before stepping inside; Ranma saw his blurred visage through the cascade of water in his eyes, "he's kind of a hero 'round here, Miss Tendou."

"Is that right? He's sort of a hero to us, too." Nabiki did not sound like she thought he was very heroic. Ranma scrunched his eyes shut and turned the water off, scrambling for a paper towel, unwilling to open his eyes and face her quite yet.

"Well, we'll get his statement an' then he can go home with you." Ranma heard Kenichi leave after shuffling his feet around uncomfortably for a moment. Nabiki's cold stare, the stare he was sure she had on her face right now, was not something that people felt easily comfortable with.

Ranma finished wiping his face, found there was no more reason to stall, and opened his eyes, tossing the paper in the trash. He looked at himself in the cracked mirror over the sink, pressing his hands against the wall on either side of its marred surface. He looked like he'd been dragged through the streets on his face. "I know what yer gonna say, Nabiki."

"No you don't." Nabiki said sharply, and then she walked over and grabbed his chin, twisting so that he faced her. Her expression was fierce, and her eyes were puffy and red – had she been crying. "You're my little brother, no matter what my father says, and if you're in trouble, you're supposed to tell me!" And then she slapped him, and promptly yanked him into a tight hug. "Tell me when a fucking street gang tries to muscle their way in on you, you fucking idiot! I know people!" she was whispering into his shoulder, and her own shoulders were shaking as she cried.

"Master Gyaru was…" Ranma said hoarsely, pulling away from her, "I just… I went nuts." He hung his head in shame, cheek still stinging from her slap. Nabiki shoved him a little.

"Shut the fuck up, Ranma Saotome," he looked up at her in angry surprise, and her cold, calculated stare met his blazing eyes, "shut the fuck up, just shut up. You did whatever you had to, to protect someone."

"Someone who was already dead, Nabiki Tendou!" Ranma half-sneered, whirling away from her, any composure he'd had leaving him. "Master Gyaru was already dead when I started pummeling them." He said darkly, staring at the white tiles on the wall and clenching his fists so hard he swore he heard his bones creak.

"No, he wasn't!" Ranma balked, "He was alive, Ranma!"

"But his pulse was…" Ranma thought back, trying to remember.

"How accurate were you in the dark, Bro?" Nabiki asked quietly. Ranma groaned, loudly, as though his body was coming apart at the seams.

"I hurt them for nothin'!" he shouted.

"No, you didn't! You didn't kill anyone, none of them have the capacity to even press charges—"

Ranma snorted at her in derision. "You think that fucking matters? I hurt them!" Ranma shouted, punching the wall and cracking the tile, bloodying his knuckles.

"And they hurt your friend, you idiot! You made a mistake," Nabiki reached out and tried to tug him, turn him around to face her, but he refused to budge, "you never were very easy on yourself. She hated that about you."

Ranma flinched, knowing exactly who she meant, and knowing exactly why she said it. His shoulders sank a little. "I lost control." He said softly, his anger draining away.

"You're still learning, Bro," Nabiki pulled him into another hug, this one lighter and more gentle, "we all are."

"When the hell did y'get so nice, Nabs?" then she pulled away and punched him in the stomach. He let out a little "oof" and grimaced. "Hey, watch it." She stepped away from him and smirked in a familiar fashion.

"Look, I'm just trying to keep you from doing anything stupider," Ranma frowned and she continued as though his expression hadn't changed, "now that you're hanging around us again, you've got to watch yourself, hm?" Ranma raised an eyebrow in confusion, and Nabiki turned her head to the side and sniffed disdainfully, somehow looking down her nose at him even though he was almost a foot taller than her. "You think we don't talk to our own little sister, still, Ranma?"

"Has she asked about me?" Ranma asked before he could stop himself. Nabiki laughed, almost cruelly – almost. She turned on her heel and strode out of the bathroom with the confidence of a woman who hadn't just come to pick up her almost-brother-in-law from the Nerima Precinct wearing flannel pajama pants and a pink CHINA GIRL sweater.

Skillfully dodging any further questions from him by completely ignoring him, Nabiki waited whilst Ranma gave his statement, stutteringly, to the police. Afterwards she drove him home in the nicest car he'd ever been in. "Is this yours?" Ranma asked as they drove out of the station and down the street.

"Yep," she smirked, "got it as a present."

"From who?" Ranma asked, trying not to sound too disbelieving. He didn't do a good enough job, because she glared at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Men are still interested in powerful women, Ranma, even if you're scared to death of them," she sighed, and smiled cattily, "his name is Toya Hisamura, and he's rich and handsome and smart."

Ranma snickered, "Obviously not that sm— ow! Hey!" Ranma rubbed his shoulder which seemed to have gotten in the way of her fist, and laughed a little. Then he leaned his head against the passenger window and looked out at the darkness. He didn't realize he'd fallen asleep until the car pulled to a stop. Nabiki turned off the car and waited whilst he woke up and stretched.

"Are you gonna be okay by yourself?" Nabiki asked quietly as he moved to get out of the car.

Ranma shrugged, "I guess. I'm worried about Master Gyaru."

"He's safe, Ranma. Officer Miike told me that he's safe in the hospital, he's in stable condition, he's going to be fine," she paused, gripping his shoulder as he prepared to leave the car, "but he would have been dead if you hadn't stopped them, Bro."

Ranma nodded, but he didn't quite believe her. He left the car and slammed the door shut, watching her drive off after restarting the engine. He stood on the sidewalk until he didn't hear the sound of the engine anymore, and then he turned and moved towards his apartment building. The sun was just starting to come over the horizon, and Ranma felt tired into his bones; it must've been almost five in the morning.

Despite there being only one flight, to Ranma the stairs felt endless. He reached the top of them and sighed, leaning against the mahogany railing briefly before starting down the hallway to his door, knowing that Kaibutsu was probably going nuts.

As he approached the door, something was nagging at him. He frowned and stopped, listening. Silence met him, and that was just the problem.

"Kaibutsu," Ranma murmured; he should be barking his head off. He always knew when Ranma came home. Moving to the door, Ranma fished his keys out of his pocket with shaky hands. The door next to his opened and a very tired Garou Watanabe, Hitomi's husband, stepped into the hallway, outlined by the light from his larger apartment's entryway.

"Mr. Saotome? We thought you were already home; we heard noises." Garou yawned, and Ranma's blood ran cold.

He stabbed the key into the door and unlocked it, tearing it open. Inside was what was left of his little studio apartment. The futon was slashed open, all of his anatomy and physiology books were scattered and torn apart on the floor. His table was broken, and the cushions had been turned into nothing but scraps. "We heard Kaibutsu bark, and then some noises, but— ah!" Garou's breath hitched in his throat as he stepped up behind Ranma and saw the damage himself. "Mr. Saotome, I'm so… I'm so sorry, had we known…"

Ranma stepped into the place that was his home a few hours ago and let out a small breath. "Kaibutsu? Kaibutsu? C'mere, c'mere boy, where are ya'?" Ranma's voice cracked as he crept around the room and into the kitchen. He let out a low moan and fell to his knees at what he found.

Kaibutsu was lying on his back next to his food bowl, his belly slashed open, entrails coiling on the floor like greasy snakes. His eyes were wide open, and his neck was split open in a gruesome grin. Ranma felt like tearing his place apart further with his bare hands. Kaibutsu, so trusting, had probably thought the intruders were someone coming to feed him. So many strangers had passed their hands through his fur and walked him in the last month that he must not have thought anything of strange people in his house.

"Kaibutsu!" Ranma screamed, not caring who he woke up or how insane he sounded. Exhausted and swelling with agony, he laid himself across his best friend and sobbed like a child.

Garou dared to set foot in his house, and Ranma barely heard him come up behind him. He didn't respond when Garou put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm so, so sorry Mr. Saotome. I wish we had known what was happening." Ranma wiped his nose on Kaibutsu's sticky, smelly fur and leaned away, covered in flakes of dried blood and offal. "Come, you should come stay with us, call the police, get cleaned up and sleep," when Ranma didn't say anything, just sat there, Garou continued in a whisper, "what happened to you tonight, Mr. Saotome?"

"Everything," Ranma croaked out, finally standing. He turned and faced Garou, not even feeling energy enough to blame him for Kaibutsu's death; he did what most Good Japanese would do: stay out of their neighbors' damn business. Garou ducked his balding head and looked away from the stark look in Ranma's eyes.

"Come, come, you come with me." He said urgently, trying to pull Ranma with him. Ranma shook his head.

"No, I'm sleeping here." Garou squawked and floundered about a little at that.

"Mr. Saotome… Ranma," he tried, gently, as though speaking to a crazy person, "you cannot sleep here; it's too dangerous, and there is… a corpse…" Garou trailed off lamely.

Ranma glared down at Kaibutsu's lifeless body and closed his eyes. "I'm going to sleep here, and wait for them to come back."

"At least let me call the police." Garou said after a few moments of silence. Ranma nodded in acquiescence and Garou left, hesitantly, eyes flashing behind his glasses.

When he'd left, leaving the door open, Ranma leaned down and lifted Kaibutsu's sticky, mangled, body into his arms and brought him into the living room. He laid him down on the shredded white sheets from his own futon and wrapped the dog in mourning colors. And then he slept on the remains of his futon, one arm on the tightly-wrapped body, the other thrown over his eyes to block out the sights around him.


	8. Chapter 7

He awoke from a deep and dreamless sleep to someone gently shaking him. Ranma pried his eyes open and winced away from the harsh light of morning stabbing into his face. "Who… fuck…" he groaned and sat up, stiff and sore beyond all comprehension, swiping at the hands that tried to hold him.

"Hey, Ranma, it's just me, Kenichi," Ranma cracked his eyes open slowly, and stared at the sweaty, exhausted face of Kenichi Miike, "we gotta stop meeting like this." The man said wryly.

Ranma laughed tiredly and grimaced at the awful taste and smell that assaulted his mouth and nose. "Fuck, where the fuck am… I…" and then he looked around.

In the daytime, his apartment looked even worse. Police were crawling over every inch of it, stepping over shredded books and broken furniture. For having been so sparsely furnished, Ranma wasn't sure how they'd found enough things to make a mess with. His clothes were spread all over the room, torn to shreds, and Ranma grimaced at the sight of his favorite green hat with someone's… leavings in it. The curtains had apparently been torn off, Ranma noted with fresh dismay – his mother had made those curtains, embroidered them with images of China. He felt stupid for even being upset, however, when Kaibutsu was—

"Where is he? Where's my dog?" Ranma asked suddenly, noticing the absence of the body.

"Don't worry, he's just outside the door in a box, he's safe," Kenichi looked Ranma up and down like he might be some dangerous, undiscovered animal, "what about you, hm?"

Ranma looked away from Kenichi's concerned gaze. "M'fine; why d'you care so much?" he asked, feeling angry and confused. Fresh tears fell across his face and he pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes until there was a kaleidoscope of blues running across his eyes and his head swam.

"You remind me of someone," Kenichi said softly, patting Ranma's shoulder and standing, "right down to that bad attitude." Ranma snorted and pulled his hands away, blinking and sniffing hard.

"Ranma!" Kasumi's voice brought his head up with a snap, and men moved to stop her from entering. Ranma stood up and walked over to her, carefully stepping around policemen, and moved through the two-man blockade and into Kasumi's open arms. "Nabiki told me everything this morning! I was so worried!"

"I'm sorry for worryin' you," he said softly, looking out of the corner of his eye in the hug at the closed cardboard box containing Kaibutsu's body.

"I called your mother, told her you were alright," she pushed him away, "Ono's at home with Kimiko – I didn't think it would be good to bring her here."

Ranma nodded firmly and they pulled away from each other. Kasumi put her hand on his cheek and looked him up and down. "Oh, Ranma, you're filthy… c'mon, let's get you to the clinic." Her dress was spotted with filth and Ranma grimaced.

"But… Kaibutsu…" Ranma motioned to the box, and Kasumi looked at it in surprise, and then sadness.

"Ranma… I'm so sorry…" she bent over and picked up the box with a little difficulty, and Ranma let out a little cry and took it from her.

"You shouldn't have t'carry that," he felt the weight of his dog in his arms and shuddered.

"Neither should you," she said softly. Ranma looked away and she sighed and gently ushered him down the hallway, down the stairs, and out the door.

Several people and news reporters were in front of the Maison Ikou, and the manager, Mrs. Shibata, was trying desperately to get them to go away. She glared at Ranma when he passed, but he ignored her as politely and effectively as he could whilst carrying his dead dog in a box and wearing a blood-stained gi. He was phenomenally uncomfortable, and the sudden press of people around him and Kasumi made his heart race in his chest.

"Please, oh my! Please, we need to— oh!" Kasumi cried out as she was shoved, "It wasn't this bad coming in!" She called over her shoulder weakly. The reporters shoved microphones and lights in their faces, and only Ranma's grip on the box kept him from punching the nearest one.

Eventually, they made it through the throng and into the back seat of Nabiki's waiting car. They got in and Ranma pressed his forehead against the box as Nabiki pulled away from the curb, cursing as she weaved in and out of a throng of reporters, teenagers, and policemen all trying to keep them back. An officer tapped on the window as she slowly moved past, and Nabiki rolled the window down.

"Go down that street and take a left, we've got that street cleared of people." He said, looking inside briefly. Nabiki nodded and thanked him, rolling the window up with an electric whir before setting off and following the young officer's directions.

Ranma felt like he was made out of stone. Only the gentle press of Kasumi's hand on his arm told him that he was made of flesh. "Ranma, when we get to the house…" Kasumi trailed off with a small noise.

"Look, Bro, you're in for one more shock, so just try to relax." Ranma's heart sped up so fast that he felt it thumping against his sternum. "We… well… Akane might be there." His breath caught in his throat and stayed there; suffocated with emotion was not the best way to go. "We weren't going to call her, but she apparently was watching the news and, well…"

"She told us not to tell you… where she lived, so you wouldn't try to come after her." Kasumi said painfully, putting her arm around his shoulders. "It will be better for us to let you two get reacquainted on your own, though." Ranma nodded, dumbly.

Hugging the box so tight he almost crushed it, Ranma stared at the back of Nabiki's seat, shifting in his uncomfortable gi; the dried blood had made it stiff and itchy. But Ranma knew even if he was wearing fresh clothes, he'd still feel like there were ants swarming under his skin.

Akane. Akane. Her face drifted across his vision, and he shook his head and rested it against the box again. Did he even want to see her? After all this time, what the hell was he going to say to her? He was so drained, so tired… "You don't have to see her right away. She's probably out, anyway, getting supplies; she never could wait for very long." Kasumi said reassuringly. They pulled to a stop in front of Tofuu's clinic, and quickly got him out of the car and around to the gate. Ranma felt like they were dragging him through sludge. He could hardly move his feet.

"My clothes…" Ranma said as they helped him to the bathroom, shucking off the Chinese slippers he still hadn't removed before he even entered the house. Kaibutsu's box was pried from his hands by Ono who seemed to appear from nowhere, and a whispered conversation and some gentle prodding got him into the bathroom at the back of the house. It all took place in a span of minutes, but to Ranma, who was swimming through a sticky sea of discomfort and confusion, it took an eternity.

"There are clothes in the laundry room," Ono said when Kasumi and Nabiki had bowed out, taking the box from Ono with great care, "you'll be okay by yourself, Ranma?" the older man asked gently. "Your chi is very unbalanced."

"No kidding?" Ranma squawked out. Ono sighed and helped him out of his clothes.

"I'll… take care of these." He said, holding Ranma's disgusting, almost-unrecognizable gi away from himself like it was a wet cat. Ranma shuddered at the thought and turned away, sitting on the stool and turning on the cold water as Ono stepped out into the laundry room, closing the door behind him. The bath was already steaming and he looked longingly at it as the cold spray hit him in the chest. The bath tub, and even the entire room, reminded him of the one at the Tendou Dojo, and Ranma felt a pang of strange nostalgia, strange for a time like this.

The cold water felt refreshing on his flesh; he didn't realize how hot he'd become in his filthy clothes. He was all over grime, and smelled awful. Scrubbing until he was almost red with a cloth and the least-flowery soap he could find on the low shelf by the showerhead, Ranma half-sobbed and cleaned himself.

The water going into the drain at his feet turned red, then pink, then clear as he washed. He undid his braid, putting the tie around his wrist, and scrubbed his hair. There was a small knock on the door to the bathroom, and Ranma's heart caught, hands mid-scrub. "Your mother and father will be here tonight, Ranma," came Kasumi's voice through the door, "they want you to come home with them."

"Oh," he called back over the sound of the rushing faucet, "maybe." He saw Kasumi's shadow through the shoji. It moved as if to open the door, and then she probably caught herself, turned, and the shadow disappeared as she left. Ranma sighed wearily and finished rinsing out his hair, conditioned it, then rinsed that as well. Feeling cleaner, he rinsed off the floor until it was clean of suds, and then stepped into the waiting bathwater. "Ahhh…" he sighed as he sat down in the tub; it was slightly smaller than the one at the Tendous, but still roomy by most standards.

Dangling one foot out of the tub, Ranma sank until his head was below the water. He watched his hair, black vipers coiling through the water, and the glimmering lights in the ceiling of the small room. Bubbles rose in a rush as he surfaced again, sputtering a little and wiping his face clear of the hot water. And then he leaned against the tub and tried not to think about Akane.


	9. Chapter 8

He awoke to the sound of someone knocking urgently on the shoji, the clattering sound breaking him out of the nap he didn't know he'd slipped in to. "Ranma? Are you alright?" Ono slid the screen open and stepped into the steam, swiping away the clouds of vapor with his hand. Ranma sat up and stretched in the lukewarm bathwater. "You've been in here for a half hour, you'll turn into a prune," Ono smiled and reached out to help haul the young man out of the tub. Ranma took the offered hand and let himself be taken out of the tub and led towards a towel hanging on a hook by the shoji. "There are some clothes for you in the laundry room," he paused, coughed into his hand, "Kasumi couldn't salvage your gi."

"That's alright. Burn it," Ono nodded, eyes wide, "Thank you, Dr. Tofuu." Ranma said meaningfully. Ono bowed with a small smile, and then left him to his own devices.

Ranma felt like he'd slept for a hundred years. He felt impossibly refreshed and groggy at the same time. The previous day and night swept back at him like an incoming tide, but suddenly the tasks that lie ahead of him – burying his best friend, getting a new place to live, speaking with Master Gyaru and his wife, dealing with the police and his parents – did not seem so insurmountable.

And then he remembered what else he had to contend with. Even now his ears strained to hear Akane's voice, as it always did when he thought he might. He heard no sounds, however, save for a few whispered snippets of conversation; the laundry room blocked most of the noises of the house.

Drying off and hanging up the towel, Ranma opened the shoji with a quiet hiss and stepped into the cooler laundry room, shivering a little as he slid the shoji closed. There were new boxers, still in the packaging, and a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Ranma grimaced a little – he hated denim He ripped open the package with the boxers and put on the black pair of the three inside, then slipped the t-shirt over his head. He was relieved to see, under the jeans, a pair of black sweatpants, and put those on instead. After re-braiding his moist hair with practiced ease, he tied it up and checked himself in the full-body mirror tacked to the wall behind him; he looked like a new man. A young man, an energetic man, not a man with the weight of loss pressing on him. He looked sure, steady, and comfortable.

If he was going to face this new day, he was going to do it comfortably.

Steeling himself for what seemed like the millionth time in his life, Ranma opened the grey fusuma in front of him and froze.

The woman in front of him was Akane, but it wasn't Akane. Her hand was raised up, as if to knock, and as he stared at her the hand slowly lowered to hand limply at her side. The expression on her face was reminiscent of the first time she'd seen him as a man.

But he wasn't really a man then.

Her hair was shorter than he'd last seen it, and seemed to have darkened, but it could have just been the light. Her brown eyes were swimming with emotions he couldn't read, and her cheeks were stained with a surprised flush. There was a silver scar on her throat, and he knew why it was there but shied away from that knowledge. He resisted the urge to let his eyes stray further, kept them fixated on her lovely face. She was impossibly beautiful; Akane had always been plain – always thought herself plain, anyway, he knew, and his comments as a youth hadn't helped. But, regardless of what she thought about herself, Ranma always thought she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. And now she was a woman. It showed in her face, in the confident way she held herself.

"Hey Ranma," she spoke first, her voice soft and gentle, so unlike what he expected on their first meeting after so long, "sorry to intrude, but Kasumi told me to tell you that there's some food for you, if you want it." Her words came out in a rush, and then she turned to leave. On an impulse, Ranma reached out and grasped her small hand in his larger one. Her head whipped around, tears forming in her eyes, her body, which had stiffened at the initial contact, suddenly relaxed as he stroked his callused thumb across the tops of her knuckles. He felt the calluses there and on her palm.

Gasping, Akane twisted her hand out of his grip like he was on fire, and held it against her chest, turning clumsily to stare at him. "Akane…" he started, hand still held out; he swallowed in a suddenly dry mouth and tried again, her tears making the words catch and tumble across his mouth like marbles, "I… I'm so sorry."

"You're too late, Ranma." Akane rasped out. And then she walked away from him, her back shaking with sobs. Ranma's hand dropped, and then he brought it to his nose and smelled it; dust, carrots, maybe some tamari.

All along, deep down, Ranma knew he would be too late, but hearing her say it was like a knife in his spine. No part of him wanted to move, but he did it anyway, stumbling like a drunkard down the hallway, past a few doors and then into the dining area. Kasumi, Nabiki and Ono were seated around the table, but Akane was nowhere to be seen.

None of them looked at him. They probably heard the exchange, being so close to the bathroom, but he didn't care. He stared at the rice, fish and vegetables in front of him without really seeing them; food meant to be easy on his stomach, and rejuvenate him. Thanking Kasumi, he ate, slowly, chewing everything without tasting it.

"Ranma, when do you want to bury Kaibutsu?" Ono asked when Ranma finally put down his hashi next to his empty dishes. He turned and saw the box sitting in the backyard, a shovel next to it. He stood up without a word and walked outside, picking up the shovel and going to a dirt corner of the yard, close to the fence, and started the process of burying his best friend.


	10. Chapter 9

Ranma spent the rest of the day talking to police, answering their questions in a voice that sounded like it was coming at him through water. He stopped by the hospital to talk to Master Gyaru and his wife. She was a small, willowy woman who smacked him on the back of the head when he tried to blame himself for what happened. "Shut up, I won't hear of it! You saved my husband's life – anything we can do for you, is done." But Ranma knew he couldn't accept any help from them.

Everyone seemed to be moving very quick to his sluggish senses, and by the time he was back at the Tendou-Tofuu residence, he felt like a child with buckets on his feet, and bags on his arms and head. Clumsy, slow, awkward.

His parents were waiting for him, but Akane was absent. Ranma tried not to care, tried to put her out of his mind, but he found that he couldn't. "Ranma," his mother was saying as he stared out of the dining area, in which he was eating lovely food that tasted like paste, "are you going to come with us back to Kyoto tomorrow?" His eyes focused down the hallway where Akane had stood like smoke earlier that day

The question filtered through the haze of gloom that had settled around him and he turned his head slowly to look at his parents. His father looked stern, but concerned, and his mother's face was full of hope. He hated to disappoint her.

"No, I'm gonna stay in Nerima," he paused, glancing at Kasumi, "if Kasumi will let me stay here until I can move back into my apartment." If his landlord would even have him back.

Kasumi and Ono nodded. "Of course you can, Ranma, but…" she trailed off, looking worriedly at him.

Nodoka sighed and smiled almost bitterly. "I knew that would be your answer," she reached into her purse sitting behind her and pulled out an envelope, "here's some money."

Ranma put up his hands and shook his head and she frowned, hurt. "No, I can't take that, Ma, keep it. I got money," he looked around the room at the worried faces, "don' worry 'bout me, I'll be fine with what I got."

"But Ranma, you saved up that money to pay for school," Genma said sourly, "what are you going to go to school with?"

"I… don't know…" he sighed heavily and brought his knees up to his chest, putting his hashi down and ignoring his half-eaten food for once in his life.

"I wish you could just stay here forever," Nabiki said softly; she had been mostly silent all day, except when talking to the police – she had been very helpful then, "but Kasumi and Ono aren't gonna have the room; she's knocked up again already."

"Nabiki!" Kasumi sounded properly scandalized and Nabiki ducked her head and blushed.

"Whoops, sorry, Sis," she smiled gingerly and Kasumi's eyebrows lowered slightly, which made the temperature in the room drop a fraction until Nodoka and Genma quietly congratulated the two of them. After a few moments of this, Ranma sighed and scratched his head.

"Look, I'll jus' stay at a—"

"You can come stay with me." Ranma's head whipped around so fast he almost fell over. Akane stood on the deck behind him, a vision in a red sundress with yellow shorts under it. He only saw the shorts because he was sitting so low, and he was immediately embarrassed for looking up her dress.

She walked over and sat down next to him, her face unreadable. "I live in Kita Ward; there's a direct line on the train." She said softly.

Ranma felt like she was tearing his heart out of his chest. "Akane, I… I can't, what… you…"

Akane smiled, and it lit up her face like a campfire the size of the sun. Everyone in the room was completely silent, and Ranma felt like they were the only two people there. "Of course you can, dummy," she paused pointedly, "just until you can get somewhere else, right?"

He nodded, dumbly, and resisted the urge to hug her so tight she molded to him.

The rest of the evening passed by, but Ranma could only think about one thing: sleeping in the same house as Akane again. Hope burned hot in his chest and he tried to ignore it, but it struggled there, angrily, trying to get out.


	11. Chapter 10

Four hours later, his only belongings that hadn't been ruined packed into a small travelling pack, Ranma set out for the train station with Akane, saying goodbye to everyone with grateful tears in his eyes.

The station was a twenty minute walk from the Tendou-Tofuus', but Ranma barely noticed the distance. He was watching Akane's back, watching the strong muscles of her legs and arms. He wanted those arms around his waist, or her fingers running gently through his hair.

When she dug in the leather satchel hanging down near her waist, the silvery scar on her neck caught the light from a street lamp and Ranma's stomach lurched.

When they reach the station, Akane paid for the ticket despite his protests. No amount of pleading got her to change her mind, and so he stood there obediently on the platform, waiting, feeling sixteen again as she took a seat on a bench nearby.

They waited in pregnant silence. There was no one else waiting with them, just the ticket seller. Ranma dared a glance at her. She was checking a watch in her purse, her short hair stuck to her cheek with sweat – it was almost eighty degrees out, and somehow hotter in the train station. It was certainly hotter in Ranma's sweatpants, and he wondered if the jeans would have been cooler.

"My roommate is gone for the summer, and she won't care if you use her room," Akane spoke so suddenly that Ranma was a little startled.

"Um, that's good," Ranma paused, clearing his throat, "I'll uh… I'll have a job with Master Gyaru as soon as he's better, y'know, an' then I'll… I'll prolly be able t'move back into my apartment." He was trying to put her at ease; she was so tense in his presence he wanted to assure her that she wasn't going to have to deal with him for very long.

"Why didn't you go stay with them, didn't they offer?" Akane asked quietly. Ranma stiffened and felt his heart break a little – she really, really didn't want him around.

"I… didn't wanna impose." He said lamely, perfectly aware of how stupid of an excuse that was given the circumstances.

Silence stretched between them a mile wide.

"I'm sorry about your dog. Kasumi said he was really sweet." Ranma hung his head and stared at the cement under his feet at the mention of Kaibutsu.

"He was a really good dog," he said softly; he opened his mouth to say something else, but the announcement of their train came over the loudspeaker and drowned out anything he was going to say, so he didn't bother to say anything else.

The train pulled up a few moments later, and he and his new "roommate" got on the train and took seats near the back. Sitting next to her, Ranma's chest began to constrict. He felt giddy, high; having her so close… He could smell the flowery shampoo she used, and the musky, slightly-sweet smell of her sweat. Their shoulders were brushing, and Ranma wished the entire forty-six minute train ride that he was wearing a tank top and not a t-shirt, because the feel of her bare skin would have been an excruciatingly excellent treat in this hideous day he was having.

But… maybe not all hideous, he thought, studying Akane's profile as she stared out the window. He traced the line of her jaw with his eyes, wishing he could trace it with his hand, or his mouth. He thought about all the differences he saw in her; she seemed calmer, but there was a firmness about her gaze, a "don't fuck with me" attitude that he hoped she'd never lose.

Eventually, his eyes came to rest on the scar, and he forced himself to look at it. Ranma Saotome forced himself to not run away from his past as he stared at the hair-thin ridge marring the creamy flesh of the neck of the girl he was still in love with. His mind swept backwards through time, using the scar like a trail through the thick stands of memories he tried to wedge between himself and the past.

_Four Years Ago, the Tendou Dojo_

Ranma sat in the dojo, hands gripping the metal bucket on the floor in front of him so hard he heard the metal give a little. Around him sat Mousse, Ryouga, Genma, and Shanpu, all with similar buckets in front of them.

The dojo was so quiet, you could have heard a pin drop on a down pillow. They had waited and planned for this day for weeks after Nodoka had sent the Nyannīchuan and the Nannīchuan from her trip to China. She had decided to go herself to make sure there were no mix-ups or problems this time, and it was Genma's job to make sure "the Master" was gone, believing his beloved "Ranko" to be going back to China to rid himself of his voluptuous curves.

He had to hand it to his mother: she was a master of disguise.

Knowing that his mother would return that evening to her son being a "full man" made him so happy he could jump out of his skin.

And then… there was also Akane. She had never really been as bothered by his curse over the last year, hugging him no matter what form he was in as though he was he. Ukyou and Shanpu always seemed to want him to be a man when they glommed onto him, but Akane… well, she didn't glom, but she knew who he was.

Smiling, Ranma looked around at the others, knowing that, Shanpu, at least, was going to be disappointed at the end of the day, but that didn't matter in the larger scheme of things. She would get over it.

His eyes fell on Ryouga, a young man who was slowly becoming his friend. He'd insisted that he would tell Akane about his curse when he was a full man. He wanted her to find out from him, so that she could decide for herself if he was worthy of being, at least, her friend. Ranma watched as Ryouga let out a small yell, his face split in a grin, and upended the bucket over his head. He remained Ryouga, wet and grinning like an idiot, but Ryouga nonetheless.

"It works!" Mousse shouted, following suit. Ryouga was laughing and dancing around the dojo like a crazy person, and Ranma had to laugh at their antics. Shanpu was giggling as she turned the bucket on herself, and ran around wet and happy, but careful not to touch anyone else – who knew how much of the water could curse you, really?

"Woohoo!" Ranma's father shouted, dunking his head in the bucket and sitting up with it on his head.

Ranma was the only one left still clutching his bucket. His arms didn't seem to want to move; he saw that it worked, but nerves were making it difficult. Ryouga was shouting and running out of the dojo now, screaming "I'm a man! I'm a man! WAHOO!"

Gritting his teeth, Ranma whispered a quick prayer and dumped the magic water on his head and felt… nothing. Just cold water. He sat there, unblinking, unbelieving.

He was cured.

"HOLY SHIT!" Ranma screamed, and ran over to hug his father, and Mousse, and even Shanpu after some hesitation, both of them relieved when the cursed water didn't seem to do anything to either person.

Shanpu opened her mouth to say something, but a surprised yelp outside interrupted her. "A-Akane, what are you doing here!" Ranma's stomach went into his throat and he looked out the open dojo doors at his fiancée standing in front of a flailing, cold, wet Ryouga.

"Oh, hey, Ryouga. I got out of my club meeting early – why are you all wet? Are you and Ranma fighting again?" Akane sounded concerned, and she looked over Ryouga's shoulder at Ranma, Shanpu, Mousse and Genma all in the doorway, all wet, all human.

Her eyes widened considerably. "Are… are you guys… cured!" she shouted, a happy smile on her face. Ranma forgot about the danger for a moment and nodded, running out into the yard to be swept up in a wonderful hug from his fiancée.

And then, because nothing ever seemed to go right when it was supposed to, everything came crashing down.

Akane pulled away from him, her eyes sparkling, and then she looked over at Ryouga, and her face started to fall into confusion. "But why is Ryouga… wet… too… oh my god…" her voice was small, and her face was white. She looked quickly at Ranma, and he knew he couldn't lie to her.

Her expression turned to one of quiet rage and she shoved him away. "He's P-Chan?" Akane asked, her voice quavering as she pointed at Ryouga without even looking at him. Ranma's eyes darted to Ryouga and he saw the Lost Boy start to glow a sickly green color as he watched his friend, his crush, turn her wrathful gaze on him for the first time since he'd cut off all of her hair.

"Akane, please, I was gonna tell you, but—" Akane cut Ryouga's already-emptying voice off, and he flinched away as though struck.

"Shut up! Shut up! I don't want to hear it, from either of you!" Tears were streaming down her face, and she lashed out physically, finally, punching Ryouga in the chest with little strength.

Ryouga stumbled back, barely even looking shocked. "I just wanted to be close to you." He said softly, crying stoically.

"Akane, y'gotta understand, he didn't mean nothin'!" Akane whirled on him and Ranma actually took a step back.

"Didn't mean anything! Didn't mean anything! Fuck you! Fuck the both of you!" Akane, seventeen years old, stomped her foot like a child and ducked her head. "I should… I should…" she was breathing heavily. Ryouga reached out, one last time, the green glow fading slightly, but he stepped away at the black and blue force that was Akane's anger. She screamed and sprang at them both, and all they could do was put up their arms, and Ryouga barely even did that, acting as though he deserved the punishment.

"Aiyah, violent girl hurt husband!" Ranma heard Shanpu, and he honestly wanted to move to stop her, but he also wanted to stop Akane, make her listen. His father was conspicuously absent.

And then, all hell broke loose.

"Shanpu, wait, I can be your husband!"

"Ranma-honey, you're cured? We can finally get married!"

"Oh ho ho! Ranma-darling, come away with me!"

It was as though the universe was conspiring against him. Shanpu launched an attack with her chúi, but Mousse caught the Chinese mace with a chain. However, at the same time, Ukyou threw a small spatula at Kodachi coming over the back wall. Kodachi lashed out with her ribbon to block the projectile, and Shanpu managed to swing out toward Akane with her other chúi despite the chain. The spatula glanced off of the smooth surface of the mace, which was intercepted by the trailing pink ribbon. Kodachi's ribbon tangled with Shanpu's mace, and the spatula continued its descent towards Akane, who was pulling back her fist to bury it in Ranma's face, but Ryouga saw it. Ranma saw Ryouga see it, saw the Lost Boy pull out one of his bandanas, saw the throw – straight and true to spin the small spatula off-course.

The objects collided, bouncing harmlessly away just as Akane's fist met Ranma's face, and as he stumbled back, he bumped into a water spigot. A spigot that had been smashed so many times it was barely even a spigot anymore, just shards of metal held together by plumber's tape and a prayer. The spigot exploded, for the last time, and several of those shards shot out, missing Ranma, missing Ryouga, but one, a large, angry looking one, slashed Akane's neck so deep she gasped and fell to her knees.

Clamping her hand over the wound in surprise, her face crumpled. Everyone froze, watching as she seemed to collapse with tears. Akane was no stranger to pain, but Ranma knew it wasn't the cut that was the problem.

"Akane, I—" she cut him off viciously.

"Get the hell out! Get the hell out of my house and never come back!" she didn't even look at him, just pointed in a random direction. Ranma felt a hand fall on his shoulder as he moved towards her, to reason with her, and turned to see Souun Tendou staring at him, a cold look on his face.

Ranma whirled back around to glare at the woman he loved. "Fine! You'll never see me again!" he realized he was crying, but he also realized he was tired. "Who'd want t'marry such a violent psycho anyway!" Akane looked up at him with the expression of someone watching someone else dig their own grave.

"I said get out! The engagement is off!" the words would have been more of a slap in the face, but Ranma was already angry enough that they barely even stung. Heaving with anger, he whirled, shoving Souun rudely out of his way.

He ran upstairs, shoving everything he owned into a pack, scrubbing away tears. He didn't have much, even after a year of staying with the Tendous, he didn't have much. He raced back downstairs, tears blurring his vision, stumbling slightly. Souun was by the door, barring his way. "Get outta the way, old man," Ranma said angrily, "I'm leavin'!"

Souun glared at him. "Yes, you are. And you are never coming back." And then he stepped aside and watched Ranma coldly as he walked out without even glancing back, the sounds of Akane's sobs like a needle in his spine, over and over.


	12. Chapter 11

He could have fixed it all, right then. He knew he could have. But he and Akane… they were too stubborn, too angry, and too young. He had wandered for hours, eventually found by his mother driving by in the taxi taking her home from the airport. He'd confessed everything, and she'd taken him back to the dojo. But Souun… Souun politely but firmly refused to let him inside.

He'd stared up at the window of Akane's room as they left, and he swore he saw her face, ashen white, staring down at him in hatred. But he couldn't be sure.

After that, his mother decided to step in. She paid Ukyou her dowry, and the okonomiyaki chef was forced to admit defeat, at least for the moment. He never saw her again. He got one letter, telling him how much she missed him, and that she and her father had repaired their relationship. He didn't respond, and she never wrote again.

Shanpu and her grandmother returned to China after his mother had a long conversation with Cologne. Ranma remembered the look on Shanpu's face when she left his parents refurbished house; like a kicked puppy. Ryouga… Ryouga just disappeared. He showed up at Ranma's place in Osaka a few times, but they could barely even look at each other. At least he was alive, was what Ranma always thought. At least Ryouga hadn't done something stupid.

And Akane was obviously out of his life after that.

Now, sitting on the train next to her, four years later, he felt like something could change. He didn't know, he couldn't be sure, but maybe, if he tried.

"Kita Ward." The announcement startled him out of his reverie, and Akane motioned for him to get up. They stood by the doors, holding on to the railing, squishing together despite there being, for once, no one else on the train. Having her pressed this close made his heart thud eagerly in his chest. He felt like a virgin all over again.

Eventually the train pulled to a stop and the doors slid open. They exited together, Akane slightly ahead of him as they walked out of the station. "How far is yer place?" Ranma asked, looking around; he'd been to Kita once, a long time ago, but he and his dad had mostly just passed through on their way to Nerima. He wondered, idly, if his father had any outstanding warrants here.

"Not far; I wanted a place close to the station, so I could visit Kasumi and Daddy easily," Akane looked at him over her shoulder and smiled softly, "sometimes I even thought about going to Osaka."

Ranma stared at her in shock. "You knew I was there?"

She nodded and turned back around, half-skipping as they walked under the streetlamps. There were a few people out, but Ranma ignored them, watching the back of his ex-fiancée and the little twitches of her sundress. It was slightly cooler in Kita, but not by much, so he didn't feel much worry for her comfort in such a small dress. "Yeah, Kasumi talked to me about you a lot the first year, told me about your plans," she paused, "she talked to your mother often, too."

"Yeah, I know," he didn't mean to sound glum, but that was how he felt at the thought; he could have talked to Kasumi himself, but it was so much easier to stay away from all of them, so much easier to hide like a coward.

They walked in silence until they reached a nondescript apartment building. Akane led him up to the front door and inside. Ranma glanced up at the clock on the wall: nine-forty. He felt exhaustion creeping into his bones, and suddenly his small bag felt huge.

Her apartment was, thankfully, on the bottom floor. She hesitated at the door and looked back at him, key in the lock. "Ranma, I meant what I said. This is temporary." Her eyes and voice were firm.

Ranma could only nod in response. She nodded back and unlocked the door, opened it, then stepped inside, flicking on the lights and kicking off her shoes. Ranma kicked off his own onto the small red rug by the door and looked around.

Her apartment was nice. It had a small kitchen with an island counter, and a spacious living and dining room by Japanese apartment standards. There were three doors off to his left, probably the bathroom and bedrooms. The walls, littered with photographs and posters, were painted crimson, and the wooden floors shone in the orange lights from the ceiling. There was a soft rug under a low, dark wood table, and a nice but well-worn cream couch behind that. Over the couch was a large window, covered now with yellow curtains.

"The bathroom is the middle door over there," Akane was saying, nervously motioning around, "my room is right there, and that's my roommate's room, Makoto Hisamura." The name sounded familiar and Ranma looked at Akane quizzically.

"What's your roommate like?" he asked, walking over to the door to the left of the bathroom.

"She's nice. She's Nabiki's boyfriend, Toya's, little sister," so that was where he recognized the name.

Opening the door to Makoto's room, Ranma peeked inside. In the dim lights from the living and dining room, he could see a pink ruffled bedspread on the futon and several glossy posters on the wall. He grimaced a little, but decided complaining was the least-smartest thing for him to do right now.

"Well, feel free to use whatever from the bathroom. I'm going to bed; I've got an audition in the morning." Ranma glanced over at her as she stood outside the bathroom door, and felt a pang in his chest.

"Oh, um, thanks," he looked down at his hand on the doorknob to Makoto's room. At the click of a door closing, he looked up, but Akane was gone. He sighed heavily and stepped inside the room, setting his pack on the floor. He collapsed onto the futon with a sigh, rubbing his hands across the smooth sheets and wishing Kaibutsu was here to share the strange bed with him.

He fell asleep eventually, after fitful tossing and turning, and he could swear he heard crying.


	13. Chapter 12

The next morning he woke up to an empty house. "Akane?" he called as he stepped around the living room, aiming his quiet call at her closed bedroom door. No response. Eventually he spotted a square of white on the table, and bent over to grab it:

_Ranma,_

_ I have an audition at eight. I figured I'd let you sleep._

_ I'll be back around noon. There's some rice and leftover curry in the fridge._

_Akane_

_P.S. I didn't cook the curry._

Ranma winced – she knew him too well. He rooted around in the fridge and found the plastic tubs with the curry and rice in it. Not bothering to heat it up in the microwave, Ranma ate every last scraping with a mouth hungry from grief. Looking around the apartment, he kept expecting Kaibutsu to come running up to him for their daily walk.

Afterwards, he cleaned up after himself, setting the plastic tubs in the drying rack by the sink when they were clean. Then he set about showering, and brushing his teeth with an unopened toothbrush from the medicine cabinet, flossing for good measure. There were some clothes from Kasumi in his pack, and he changed into the jeans and t-shirt with a distasteful grimace; he'd need to go shopping for new clothes.

With nothing better to do, he tried practicing a few kata in the living room, but soon was distracted by the distinctly "Akane" aura of the apartment. Eventually, after a few more half-hearted tries at practicing, he settled for wandering around the room, looking at the pictures on the walls.

Some were of a woman and a man he didn't recognize, but whom he suspected were Akane's roommate and her brother, judging by the playful context to the photos. A few of the photos were of Akane and her sisters, at the beach, as young children playing in the yard, at Nabiki's graduation. There were a series of three photos that caught Ranma's attention for a moment: a handsome, raven-haired young man doing a series of poses in front of the crimson wall in Akane's apartment. Each one was a different move from Capoeira, the acrobatic African-Brazilian art that Ranma had had but brief encounters with, but enough to recognize that the young man was very good. At least at posing. There was no evidence of movement in the photos, and he saw Nabiki's signature on each one; he never suspected she'd use that camera for anything even remotely resembling "art."

Ranma moved on to the four posters on the wall, next to the sofa. They were at least three feet tall, and stood out with their garish colors and wild poses from the actors featured on them. They were all martial arts movies that Ranma hadn't seen. He preferred the classics, himself. He wondered if Akane had gotten into that cheesy stuff, but decided they were probably her roommate's.

He wandered around the rest of the room, deliberately avoiding Akane's room for almost an hour. He inspected the acting and Computer Science textbooks on the bookshelf near the door, glancing through some of the manga there. A few were a little… adult, and he felt slightly embarrassed, but read anyway – no one was home, after all.

Eventually, the temptation was too great, and after checking the clock on the wall – he still had an hour until Akane came home – he ventured into her room.

He stood in front of the closed door for a moment, and then turned the knob and swung the door open. Flicking on the light he glanced around, breathing in girl-scent. The bedspread was yellow, and the walls were covered with posters from various classic martial arts films. He glanced at these, pleased by her taste. There was a shelf with books above her futon, each one dealing with The Art or with acting, and on her desk sat a framed photo.

The photo made Ranma's heart leap into his throat. It was a photo he hadn't known she had.

They were standing on the back porch. Ranma had that hideous yellow scarf on – the scarf that the thugs had missed, the scarf currently buried in the bottom of his pack. He had his arm around her, and they were smiling. They looked young and happy, and, dare Ranma say it, in love. He picked up the photo in its frame, hands shaking, tears welling up in his eyes. It was impossible. Why would she keep it? Why?

And it was on her desk, where she would see it often.

The sound of a key in the front door broke him frantically from his thoughts. The idea of being caught in her room made him panic, and he put the picture down right, he hoped, where he found it. Turning off the light, he backed out of the room, closing the door, and spun around to flop casually on the sofa just as Akane stepped through the door, humming to herself happily.

"Ranma— oh, good, you're up." She actually looked happy to see him, and his tummy fluttered a little.

"Hey, Akane. How'd your audition go?" he asked, eager that she was home; he was lonely without Kaibutsu, even if he wanted to snoop.

Akane beamed, set down her satchel, and slipped out of her shoes, shutting the door behind her. "It went wonderfully! I got the part!" She squealed and clapped her hands together. Ranma found himself imagining that they were married, and she was coming home to eagerly tell him about her day. But he pushed the image from his mind – she was just talking to him because he was there.

He could not think, even for a second, that it was something more. He had too much to worry about already. The photo had shaken him, but he couldn't forget what she'd said: he was too late.

"What kinda part is it? I didn't even know you was acting." She walked over and sat down at the other end of the sofa, pulling one of her legs up and motioning to the posters next to his head. He didn't look at them right away, however, as he was too focused on the expanse of leg hanging out of her shorts.

He glanced back at them eventually, and frowned, then turned back and pointed at her. "You were in those?" he asked skeptically.

Akane smirked. "Yeah, they were just bit parts, but I was in them," she stood and pointed to the first poster, _The Fist of the Dragon_, "I was Amazon Number Six in this one," she pointed to the next one, _Third Son, First Blood_, "in this one I was Third Son's stunt double as a teenager, and also a street thug," the next one was _Warrior from the Western Lands_, one Ranma had at least heard of, "in this one I was just an understudy, but I at least got to be an extra in a few scenes, and this last one…" she jumped up and down happily in front of a poster for _Mark of the Blood Oni_, "I was so excited, I got to actually play a speaking part! I was," she posed dramatically, one hand held up in the shape of a gun, the other on her hip, "Officer Number One! 'Stop right there, you disgusting creature!' It's sort of lame, thinking back on it, but I was happy."

Ranma could not stop smiling. "Wow, y'got all those parts? What part did ya' get today?" he asked again.

Akane jumped up and down again and made happy little noises; she was so beautiful and happy he almost joined her. "I have a name this time! 'Jun-Li!'" Ranma stared at her blankly and she laughed. "I'm playing a character from that video game, whatsit, _Street Warrior_."

Ranma almost crapped his pants. _Street Warrior_ was a game he'd played most afternoons in the campus arcade, waiting for his classes. "What! You're playing Jun-Li in the _Street Warrior_ movie!" The thought of Akane in Jun-Li's skimpy outfit almost made his pants catch fire. Instead, he jumped up off of the couch and grabbed her hands. "Shit, Akane! That's so fucking cool!"

"Uh-huh! And here's the best part," she pulled her hands away, and tossed her short black hair haughtily, batting her eyelashes, "there's a kiss scene between me and Raiyu."

"Who's playin' him?" Ranma asked eagerly.

"Okay, brace yourself… Wen Feng!"

Ranma gasped. "From _Dangerous Target_!"

"Yes!" They danced around each other for a few moments, and Akane even hugged him. But then, the moment was broken. Akane seemed to finally register the ease with which they settled back into the tenuous friendship they had started forming as teenagers, and pulled away.

"So," she began, wiping her hands on her shorts, her expression uncomfortable, "what'd you do while I was gone?"

Ranma shrugged, feeling confused and upset – they were having fun together, was that so bad? "Uh, nothin', practiced a bit. Thought about Kaibutsu." She looked at him with slight pity, and Ranma turned away from it.

"Y'want some lunch?" she said quickly, breaking the uncomfortable silence. She walked into her small kitchen and opened the fridge. "I could make us some homemade sushi? I have some leftover rice from the other day…" she started muttering, shifting through the fridge.

"Akane, I—" He was cut off by the sound of a knock at the door.

"Ranma, could you get that?" Akane asked, not even glancing at him. Feeling defeated, Ranma walked over to the door and almost yanked it off its hinges as he pulled it open.

Leaning one hand against the door frame was the young man from the Capoeira photos on Akane's wall. He was handsomer in person; tan skin, bright green eyes, lithely built with an upper body well-suited to a Capoeira fighter. He was wearing a pair of stylish jeans and a t-shirt with a silk screen of some band Ranma didn't recognize – he wasn't so good with pop culture.

"Uh…" Ranma said stupidly. The young man looked at up him, an eyebrow raised. There was a ring in his left ear, and his black hair was pulled back in a small dragon tail.

Something like recognition passed across the young man's face and he smiled, showing off deeply-set dimples that made Ranma want to hit him for some reason. "Oh, hey," he had an easy way of speaking, with a slight accent Ranma couldn't place, "I'm Takahiro Arai, Akane's fiancée… you must be Ranma Saotome."

Ranma wanted to run, he wanted to beat Takahiro to a pulp, and he also wanted to scream. All of these needs and wants coalesced in his head until all he managed was a strangled response, "Y-yeah, I'm… uh… Ranma." Takahiro moved past him and shook his hand informally, and his grip was strong.

"Akane, you makin' lunch?" he called out, walking toward the kitchen. Ranma watched, heartbroken, as Takahiro walked up behind Akane and grabbed her hips, pulling her away from where she was trying to roll sushi and into his body. "Smells good, babe."

"Takahiro! Watch it!" but she didn't sound angry. She even giggled.

Ranma could not be here for this. He could not watch this transpire. He slipped into his shoes. "I gotta go, Akane, got some stuff t'do." He didn't wait for her to respond, he just left.


	14. Chapter 13

He must have wandered for an hour or more. What had he expected? That Akane would sit around for four years, wishing she hadn't thrown him out like an old sack of rice? That she'd wait for his stupid ass to come sniffing around?

Ranma kicked the pavement and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He was an idiot, just like Akane had always said. And just like Kasumi said, Akane never could just sit and wait.

"Fuck!" Ranma shouted, ignoring the shocked looks of passerby. He glared at them and ducked into an alley next to a bookshop, crouching down and clasping his head in his hands.

How the hell could he go back there and watch Takahiro put his hands all over her? The thought made him want to puke. But he had no money on him for a train, and there was no way he could walk to Nerima in any reasonable amount of time.

No, his growling stomach told him, he had to go back, at least to get his things so that he could get out of that pit of despair and back to Nerima. Maybe he'd move in with Master Gyaru and his wife, after all.

As he wandered out of the alley, he tried not to look at anyone. Walking down the street, he looked around at the unfamiliar sights, and realized, painfully, that he was lost – not as lost as Ryouga, but lost. He smacked himself on the forehead. He really was an idiot.

Sighing, he found a phone booth and looked for the name Tendou in the phone book. "Alright!" Ranma shouted when he saw that she was listed. He picked up the phone, and then remembered that he didn't have any money. "Shit…" he muttered, storming back out of the booth. He looked around at the tall buildings and grumbled to himself.

"You need some help?" Ranma looked up at the voice and tried to smile at the young man, about Ranma's own age. He was dressed in a nice suit, and wore his bleach-blonde hair very short.

"No, no, thank you, I'm fine," he started to walk away, but the young man stepped in his way.

His expression was stony. "I think you need some help."

Ranma frowned and took a step back, muscles tensing, wondering what this kid wanted. "Come with me, I'll help you." The kid repeated. Ranma looked around quickly at the passersby, but they were ignoring the exchange, almost deliberately. He scowled back at the young man, only to fine him joined by two others in almost-identical suits.

"Look, kiddo," Ranma spat derisively, "you need t'get outta my way, okay? I'm in a real bad mood, an' I'm lookin' to let off a little steam. Y'want me to let that off on you?" He knew his accent gave him away as an outsider, but Ranma didn't care. He put up his hands in a modified crane pose, keeping his feet firmly planted. The three toughs grinned at him.

"Outsider, eh? Think you're a fuckin' Samurai?" the blonde spit rudely at Ranma's feet. "We'll show you what we think of outsiders, little bitch." He pulled out a switchblade, and Ranma's caution spiked. This wasn't good; this wasn't a fight he needed right now, not when he was angry and unfocused. A knife wielded even by an inexperienced fighter was something to worry over.

The youth flipped the knife around expertly and motioned to another alley. Ranma followed him into it, eyes on the knife in the boy's hand, waiting for an opportunity. He got it when the young man turned his eyes, just briefly, to signal his two comrades. Ranma struck out at him with the speed of someone trying to grab a chestnut out of a fire. He slapped the boy's wrist like he was a naughty puppy, the subtle strength in the hit making him cry out and drop the knife from suddenly-slack fingers.

Before he could recover, Ranma performed a front scoop kick to the kid's groin that made his voice reach an octave that would earn him a place on any choir. He dropped like a stone, clutching his crotch and sobbing. Ranma brought his hands up again, waiting. "Anyone else?" the kids started to back away, and then they ran. Ranma scoffed and casually kicked the knife across the alley, out of reach of the groaning boy on the ground.

"You idiot," Ranma groused, lifting the young man to his feet by the front of his suit, "why the hell d'you people always wanna fuckin' fight me?" before the young man could answer this question, however, there was a shout from the end of the alley.

"Don't you move! I'm calling the police!" Ranma balked at the older woman who, bravely, took out a cell phone and immediately began to dial. Ranma looked at the red-faced boy in front of him, – who, he realized, was much younger than he had originally thought – at the dark stain on the front of his pants, and then back at the woman who was glaring at him fiercely whilst she spoke frantically into her phone.

"Waitasec, this ain't what it looks like!" Ranma shouted, dropping the boy and backing away. As Ranma looked down at the kid at his feet, he cursed. This could end very, very badly. "Please, y'got it all wrong! He attacked me!" The woman backed away, clutching her purse to her chest. A crowd was gathering, effectively blocking that exit unless he leapt over their heads, which he could easily do. He looked at the other end of the alley, saw the high stucco wall, and groaned.

"You all see that knife! He's a thug! Look at those clothes!" Ranma looked down at himself at the woman's angry shout, and grimaced; in his white t-shirt and jeans, he did look an awful lot like a common street thug.

At that moment, an officer, probably already nearby when the woman called, came into the alley, holding a club in one hand and a pair of cuffs in the other. "Okay, now jus' hold on a minute. This kid pulled a knife on me; y'better tell them you little…"

"Fuck you." The kid spat, crawling to his feet and dusting himself off. He half sobbed, "He totally jumped me for my money!"

Ranma scoffed. "Bullshit, you attacked me!"

"Look, you're both coming with me." The officer put his cuffs away with a roll of his eyes and motioned for the two of them to follow him. Ranma grumbled but did as he was told. The young man paused to pick up his knife, but the officer stopped him with a warning shout. "Hey! I'll take that!" he snatched the knife and flipped it closed with one hand, slipping it into a pouch on his belt.

Ranma let the officer lead him into the back of a car. The young man got in next to him, smelly and pissed. "Nice bladder control, moron."

"Fuck you." He repeated tonelessly, looking away.

"What are you, some kinda wannabe tough-guy?" Ranma asked snidely as the officer got into the driver's seat and pulled away from the curb.

"Cut the noise back there." Ranma obeyed instantly, glaring at his neighbor.

They rode to the precinct in silence. When they arrived, the officer led both of them into the low white building and sat them on benches a few feet from the door. The building was mostly empty of people, save for some officers doing paperwork. Ranma spied a snack table in a corner and his stomach growled loudly. The officer who took them in raised an eyebrow and walked over to the table, coming back with a flaky, buttery pastry and holding it out. "Thanks." Ranma said, embarrassed. He ate the pastry as politely as possible, wiping his hands on his pants afterwards.

"Now, what the hell is going on?" the officer asked, standing in front of them. He looked at the would-be thug, who was hanging his head and sniffling. "What are you, in high school?"

The kid nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Jeez…" the officer groaned, "There's a phone over there. Call your parents." He jutted his thumb in the direction of the phone, on the reception desk. The thug bowed profusely when he stood, tears drying on his pimply cheeks.

Ranma looked at the kid's back in disgust. "What's your name?"

"Ranma Saotome, sir." Ranma said quietly, looking away. This was the second time in his life he'd even been in a police station, and he already hated them.

"I'm Officer Miike," Ranma's head snapped up.

"Are you related to Kenichi?" he asked hopefully.

The young officer raised an eyebrow and then nodded. "Yes, Kenichi is my older brother. Why? You get into a lotta trouble in Nerima?" He asked suspiciously.

Ranma smiled; for once, the crazy coincidences that seemed to run his life were working in his favor. "Nope; model citizen," Officer Miike did not look convinced, so Ranma continued, "he helped me out when my boss got jumped, an' I beat up the, um, assailants."

"Ooh…" realization donned, and Officer Miike smiled, "I remember now. Kenichi called me last night about that. He said you reminded him of his son."

Ranma smiled. "His son must be a pretty charmin' guy."

Officer Miike looked a little sad at that. "He died… in a car wreck seven years ago."

"Oh… shit, I'm so sorry, I had no idea," Ranma paused, "I only just met yer brother."

Officer Miike shrugged, "Hey, well you know," he looked at where the thug was calling his parents, and smirked, "I think I've seen that little shit before."

Ranma snorted, glad for the change of subject; death made him impossibly uncomfortable, especially having just lost Kaibutsu. He shivered a little, and centered himself. "Yeah, he needs a good smackin'."

"Fuckin' right," Ranma liked Officer Miike more than he expected to, and the two shared a quiet laugh at the thug's obvious discomfort in his soiled pants as he cried into the phone, "ok, who can I call to come get you?"

Ranma flushed. "Uh, well, I'm sorta stayin' with someone while my apartment is… I mean," Ranma twiddled his fingers; he did not want Akane to have to come pick him up at the precinct. That was the last thing he wanted in the world.

Officer Miike put up his hands and smiled. "Say no more. Tell me where you're at, and I'll drop you off."

Ranma grinned. "Thanks, Officer Miike."

"Call me Kentaro." They shook hands, and Kentaro led him past the front desk. Ranma stuck his tongue out at the thug in satisfaction, flipping him off for good measure, and the kid glared back at him.


	15. Chapter 14

Some fuddled directions later, Kentaro dropped Ranma off in front of Akane's apartment building. "Say hi to your brother for me, Kentaro." The officer bowed as best as he could from his position sitting-down in the car, and Ranma bowed back.

"I'll do that. Feel free to give me a call if you need anyone to show you around Kita, okay?" Ranma nodded, and Kentaro left. When he was gone, Ranma sighed heavily and whirled to face the apartment building in front of him, like a doomed man.

More than anything, he wanted to crawl into his futon, bury himself in Kaibutsu's fur, and have a good nap, maybe even a guilty cry. Clenching his fist, Ranma punched it into his opposite palm. "Fuck this, Ranma Saotome ain't no damn coward," he growled to himself, stomping up the steps. Wrenching the door open, he walked across the small lobby to Akane's door and knocked.

After a few moments the door opened, and a bemused Akane stood there, looking him up and down. "Where'd you go, Ranma?" she smirked, "Still afraid of my cooking, eh?"

Ranma barely looked at her as he went into the apartment. "Yeah, you know it." He said without heat. He could feel her staring at him as he slipped out of his shoes. He glanced around and was disappointed to see that Takahiro was sitting on the sofa, flipping through a thick white sheaf of papers. He looked up briefly and smiled at Ranma, and Ranma wanted nothing more than to smack that stupid grin off his stupid handsome face.

On the low table were some tightly-rolled kappa-maki, next to a small bowl of cooled miso and a glass of water. "Is that for me?" Ranma asked quietly.

"Yeah," Akane glared at him a little, "my cooking has gotten better, you know."

"Hell yeah," Takahiro chimed in, not looking up from the booklet he was reading, "she makes damn good ramen, too, man."

Ranma ignored him as politely as he could and sat down to eat. Everything tasted good, not as good as Kasumi's, but better than the cheap sushi places he'd eaten at every so often. "It's really good," Ranma said, avoiding talking with his mouth full only just barely, "thank you."

Akane beamed at him and sat across the table as he ate. "Where'd you run off to, eh?"

He almost choked on his food, but decided that honesty was best – at least she hadn't actually seen him in the police station. "Uh, I sorta got… jumped by some stupid kids."

"Jeez, Ranma, does everyone want to fight you, or what?" Akane sounded exasperated. When he didn't respond, just stared at her, she looked concerned. "You're not hurt, right?"

Before he could answer, Takahiro stood up and lightly thumped the booklet he'd been reading on top of her head. She glared. "Hey, babe, this script looks pretty sweet," he looked over at Ranma, "you look alright man – no bruises?"

"Nope," Ranma said flatly – at least, none on his body, "got picked up by the cops, though."

Takahiro grinned, but Akane gasped, pulling the papers off of her head and hugging them to her chest. "Oh my god, Ranma! You got arrested!" She looked angry, and Ranma found that he'd missed that look, even when it was directed at him.

"No, no, no, it was all a big misunderstandin'," he smiled until her anger flooded away to a look of interest, "I didn't get charged with nothin'; the officer knew it was that stupid teen's fault."

"Got beat up by a little kid, eh?" Takahiro sneered playfully, crouching down behind Akane and wrapped his arms loosely around her shoulders. Akane absently stroked his arm and let the script fall into her lap. Ranma felt his stomach curl up and burn inside him.

"Fuck no, I kicked his ass," Ranma growled.

"You hit a kid, Ranma?" Akane looked at him with disgust on her face, and he wanted to puke. Takahiro smiled behind her predatorily.

"No! He had a knife," Akane gasped, "yeah, I guess he knew I wasn't from 'round here, didn't like me or somethin'."

"Well…" Akane started; Ranma watched Takahiro's arms tighten almost imperceptibly around her, but the veins in his forearms bulged out, "at least you're okay. You didn't hurt him too much, right?"

"Of course not, Akane! Who d'you think I am, Tarou?" Ranma looked away, feeling genuinely injured.

"Well, after what happened with Mr. Gyaru—"

"Hey! That's not fair!" Ranma stood up, clenching his fists. Suddenly, he was angry with her. How dare she act like she knew him after not even speaking to him for four years.

Akane shrank back briefly from his anger, and Takahiro glared at him with his eyes, but his mouth was twisted into a grin. "I'm sorry, I…" Akane trailed off, and looked away from him, "I was just worried you'd gotten yourself in trouble already."

"Hey," Ranma said, anger dissipating faster than it had come, "no problem, sorry I yelled, I just—"

"Well, I should let you guys talk it out." Takahiro pulled away from his fiancée and moved for the door.

"Takahiro, wait!" Akane got up and went after him. "Where're you going?"

He shrugged, glaring at her for a second before smiling, his expression softening. "It's cool, babe. I just don't feel like watching you two duke it out."

Akane laughed and pulled at his hands. "We've just known each other for a while, it's hard not to slip back into old routines." Akane darted a glance at Ranma, who stayed silent. He wasn't going to say anything, he didn't have a right to say anything about their relationship, either the one she had with him, or the one she had with Takahiro. He didn't even understand the first one, and the latter was none of his business.

"Just gimme a call later, okay?" She nodded and he leaned down and kissed her, deeply. Ranma clenched the kitchen counter behind him so hard he felt the tile give a little. "See you Saotome." Takahiro looked up from Akane's flushed face and grinned in triumph before slipping into his sandals and out the door.

Akane stared at the closed door for a minute before she turned around to face Ranma, her expression enigmatic. "Ranma, you always bring trouble wherever you go, huh?" she asked him quietly, as though she were asking him what he wanted for breakfast.

"No!" Ranma said defiantly, "Trouble just… finds me."

They stood there in silence for a few moments, and then she smiled at him and shook her head. "Ranma, I didn't mean what I said the other day," at his confused expression, she sighed and walked over, removing his hand from the loosened tile and clutching it in both of hers, "it's never too late… to apologize. I'm sorry, too." Ranma stared down at the sight of his large hand twisted in and around hers.

"I shoulda said it sooner," he said softly.

"I should have, too," they hugged, and Ranma felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest.

And then the tile fell and crashed on the hardwood, and Akane stiffened. "Oops…"

"RANMA!"


	16. Chapter 15

Later that day found Ranma in a hospital, staring down at Master Gyaru as he answered questions for Kenichi.

"So you really didn't get a good look at 'em? Last time you said it was too dark, but maybe…" Kenichi trailed off with a sigh as Master Gyaru shook his head sadly. "It's alright, Mr. Gyaru. We'll keep looking into it. We'll let the yakuza know they don't just do whatever they please to Nerima's citizens." Master Gyaru could only nod.

His jaw was wired shut, and his body was a mess of casts and bandages. His wife, wearily seated next to his bedside, had told Ranma the last time he visited, in no uncertain terms that Gyaru wasn't necessarily going to make a full recovery. His body was damaged in ways that could permanently cost him the use of his legs, and while the doctors had patched up his jaw, he still might lose control of that, as well.

Ranma stared down at his boss, and felt a pang of guilt stabbing at him. This wasn't right; Ranma knew that Master Gyaru should have been the one up and walking around, and Ranma should have been the one injured in a hospital bed. But the gangsters, the yakuza… they wanted Ranma to fight. He couldn't fight without his legs.

"I'm so sorry," Ranma said again, bowing deeply as Kenichi pulled him outside the room, closing the door behind them. The last thing he saw was Aiko Gyaru smiling weakly at him.

"Hey, hey, Ranma," Kenichi held him at arms' length and forced Ranma, with his own fierce gaze, to look him right in the eyes, "we got the guys that did this. They aren't gonna get away."

Ranma nodded slowly. "Yeah, but are you gonna be able t'keep 'em?" At Kenichi's confused look, Ranma's expression hardened. "You know what I mean, Kenichi; they're yakuza, how you gonna really do anything about it?"

Kenichi hung his head and looked away. That was all the answer Ranma needed. He turned on his heel and walked away, but Kenichi trailed after him. "Hey, slow down, son—"

Ranma spun around to face him, whispering viciously. "I'm not yer son, old man…!"

The old officer flinched back as though struck, and Ranma wished that he could take the words back. But they hung in the air between them now, like a poisonous vapor.

"No, you aren't," Kenichi paused, tears in his puffy eyes, "look, Ranma… I know what you mean, and I wanna do all I can. The three men that attacked him are going to be put to justice."

"I know," Ranma paused, looking at his feet, and then his eyes narrowed, "did you get any information on that Ichiro guy, yet?"

Kenichi let out a breath and Ranma gazed at him through his lashes, searching the older man's face; he looked worn out. "Yes, but…" he trailed off, "he's from the Sakaume-gumi." At Ranma's befuddled look, he clarified: "They're designated; I cannot arrest Ichiro unless he steps out of line."

"Out of line! He had my boss beat to a pulp!" Several people in the hallway stopped and stared, and Ranma had the decency to blush. Kenichi glared at him and half-dragged him by the arm until they found a private, empty hospital room to talk further.

"He tried to have Master Gyaru killed, Kenichi." Ranma repeated, clenching his fist in Kenichi's face and shaking it. "Y'gotta do somethin'."

Kenichi batted the hand aside. "Ranma, I'm gonna do all I can," he said softly, "I'll talk to some people in Osaka, see what I can do. In the meantime, lay low, don't leave Kita or Nerima, okay? I gotta be able to keep in touch with you."

"You mean keep an eye on me?" Ranma said wryly.

Kenichi did not return the attitude. If anything, he became more serious. "Kentaro told me that he met you in Kita, Ranma. My son died in a car accident set up by yakuza. These are dangerous people. Do not go after them on some sort of twisted sense of justice."

Ranma looked away guiltily. "Sorry, Kenichi. You've been a friend t'me, I shouldn't—"

"Relax, Ranma," the older man patted him on the shoulder and smiled, "I'm just worried about you, that's all."

"Yeah, well," Ranma looked up at the ceiling, and let out a whoosh of breath, "I can take care of myself." He smiled at Kenichi, who looked a little unsure.

They talked logistics for a few more minutes, and Kenichi promised to keep both him and the Gyarus updated as to what was happening with the investigation.

Ranma left afterwards, and headed over to Kasumi's; it was Sunday, the day of his weekly meal with the Tendou-Tofuu's. He sighed and kicked the pavement as he waited for a bus to take him further into Nerima from the hospital. Sweat beaded on his brow, but a cooling breeze swept by to remind him that fall was coming in two weeks. The first month of his summer was spent looking for an apartment, the second spent blissfully ignorant of the coming danger, and now the last two weeks spent feeling like his heart was being ripped from his still-beating chest and fed to a pack of cats whilst he had to watch.

It was unbelievable. He couldn't fathom what had happened to his life.

Briefly, he blamed Kasumi for barging her way into his apartment, but he squelched that thought. It was no one's fault but his own, for neglecting those close to him out of cowardice.

And then he blamed Nabiki, Kasumi, and Ono for not alerting him to Akane's fiancée, and that, he couldn't seem to see a reason to forgive them for right away. There was not an obvious excuse for that, and he resolved to confront Nabiki about it, as she was the least likely to cry or make him feel ashamed of himself and his anger with just a look.

The bus pulled up and he got in, flashing a bus pas and taking a seat at the back, right next to a familiar face that he didn't recognize until he'd sat down. "Akari!"

The entire bus shushed him, and Ranma smiled nervously at them. Akari Unryu giggled, pressing her hand against her cheek shyly. "Hey, Ranma, how are you? What's it been, four years?"

"Longer!" Ranma laughed out, hugging her, happy to see a friendly face on such a dour day. "What've you been up to?"

Akari coughed politely and held up her left hand, and on her ring finger glimmered a shining silver band. Ranma stared at it in shock. "You got married?" She shook her head, but still smiled happily. "Engaged, then… T'who?"

"Ryouga, of course!" Ranma gaped, and she nodded knowingly. "I know! I never thought he'd get over Akane, but sure enough, he did! We're getting married this fall!"

"That's so great!" Ranma laughed and hugged her again. The bus rumbled on and he thought, once again, the strangeness of his life was working out. "So… why are you back in Nerima?"

Akari's face fell and she looked away, gripping her skirt. "Ryouga's missing, isn't 'e?" She nodded and sighed heavily.

"I thought I'd start looking for him now, y'know? Get a head start… Katsunishiki is back home with Daddy, waiting for him in case he makes it back on his own."

Ranma frowned angrily. "Man, what an idiot, goes wanderin' off when 'e's s'posed t'get married n'shit. What a doofus."

Akari giggled in spite of her sour mood. "Oh, I dunno. I'm pretty sure he just left to talk to Akane."

"I thought you said he was over her…"

"He is, but he never really got a chance to patch things up after the whole… P-Chan thing," Akari looked pissed for a minute, which mostly amounted to her frowning, but then her expression softened into a small smile, "he was really sweet when he explained it all to me. He was so determined to make it all better that he even offered to get cursed again, so that he'd still turn into a pig for me." She laughed. "Isn't that silly? I love him just as he is."

"So, I guess he never talked to Akane about it, really."

Akari shook her head and sighed again, leaning her elbow on the armrest and putting her chin on her hand. "Nope, he really should have done it, sooner," she looked out the window, and then back at him, "but I'm glad he decided that he wanted to… I just wish he'd told me, first."

Ranma frowned in thought for a minute, watching the side of Akari's face as the bus pulled to a stop in the shopping district. "Y'know, I bet I could find him, Akari."

Akari's head whipped around. "Really, you think so?"

Ranma stood up and held out his hand to her, which she took. They walked off the bus together. "Hell yeah, I'm great at finding Ryouga!"

"Oh, Ranma! Thank you for your help!" Akari clasped his hands in her own.

"Of course, any time; now, I think—"

"RANMA! Get away from my fiancée!" Clockwork.

Ranma let go of Akari and took a few steps back as Ryouga crashed down between them from a nearby roof. He looked worse for wear, dressed in a pair of filthy black pants and a partially-torn yellow shirt, from which his gorilla-like arms protruded. His bandanna was conspicuously absent, but his umbrella sat waiting for violence on his pack. He whirled on Ranma with a Look of Death [TM], fangs bared. Ranma smiled, hands up in a position of passiveness. "Hey, long time no see – told ya' I'd find 'im, Akari."

Ryouga's countenance faltered, and then he seemed to register the situation. He was immediately and visibly embarrassed. His face turned beet red, and he turned on his heels and looked down at his twiddling fingers as he stood in front of his fiancée. "H-hey, 'Kari…"

"Ryouga, I'm so glad to see you!" she hugged him for a moment, and Ryouga laughed nervously and put one of his hands behind his head.

"Oh, I thought you were gonna be mad at— urk!" he made a strangled sound when Akari hugged him tighter, and Ranma could see her arms shaking and heard the beginnings of her tears. "A… Akari, wha…"

"Ryouga, just answer me one question – why didn't you tell me you were going to go see Akane?" Akari asked quietly, standing away from him and hugging herself, tears in her eyes. People at the bus stop politely averted their gazes, but Ranma stared on, wondering if he should stick up for his friend or smack him on the back of the head for being an idiot.

"I… I didn't want you to think I was still in love with her. I mean… I'll always love her, but I'm not in love with her anymore, and I was worried that you'd… you'd cry," his shoulders slumped a little, and he reached out and clasped her shoulders gently, "I'm in love with you, and I wanna marry you, but I wanna marry you with a clean conscience. I have to tie up this loose end, and be a real man for you."

Akari smiled, slowly, and then she kissed him. Ranma took a step back as they seemed to forget his presence, looking at everything but the couple making out next to him. "Oh! Ranma, sorry," Akari started awkwardly, and Ranma looked at them hesitantly, "thank you for finding him for me." She laughed.

"Ranma…" Ryouga turned and grabbed Ranma by the shoulders, looking at him seriously, "do you know where Akane is?"

Ranma nodded. "Yeah, I'm… sorta stayin' with her right now." At their quizzical looks, Ranma sighed. "It's a long story…"


	17. Chapter 16

Akari and Ryouga came with him to Kasumi and Ono's. The Tendou sisters and Ono were so happy to see Ryouga, and so happy to see him at ease and smiling, that they almost forgot that there were two more people to feed.

As Kasumi and Ono set about making more food, Ranma took Nabiki aside when Ryouga and Akari were settled at the table. "There's somethin' I gotta ask you," he ground out as he half-dragged her into the hallway. He brought her into the laundry room and closed the fusuma on the rest of the house.

"Jeez, Bro, you're all mysterious. What's going on?" Nabiki looked genuinely confused.

"Oh, nothin', nothin', just, y'know, you guys coulda warned me that Akane had a fuckin' fiancée!" Nabiki flinched at his savage tone; only a desire to not alert the rest of the household to his discomfort kept him from raising his voice. At least, not alert them yet. He might yell at them later. He hadn't decided yet.

"You met him, huh?" Ranma nodded viciously and proceeded to talk about meeting Takahiro, and Nabiki grew more and more uncomfortable as his sordid tale wore on.

"Look, Ranma, we didn't say anything because we forgot, okay?" Ranma felt unconvinced, and let it show plainly on his face. Nabiki rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips. "Do you really think we'd deliberately keep it from you? None of us like him, so none of us thought about it. We were too busy, oh, I dunno, taking care of you and helping you bury your dog…!" she hissed, poking him in the chest hard enough to make him back up a step.

Dammit, even Nabiki could make him feel ashamed of himself. He sighed heavily. "Sorry, you're—"

"No, I'm sorry we forgot," he looked at her in surprise, "really, I am. I'm sure we all are, now." Nabiki paused and rolled her eyes. "Sorry you had to meet him that way. He's not… a bad guy, he's just a little abrasive." Nabiki reached out and patted him on the shoulder. "If it makes you feel any better, we all wish she was marrying you, Ranma."

"Yeah…" He looked away for a moment shuffling his feet. "How long have they known each other?"

Nabiki snorted. "Like, a year. He asked her to marry him two months ago," she sighed, "Daddy approves. He's wealthy." Ranma winced and looked at her.

"This sucks, Nabiki."

"Yes, Ranma, it does." Nabiki turned and walked out of the laundry room. Ranma stood there, alone, holding back tears. He sniffed loudly and threw a few punches at the mirror, pulling them before he hit the surface. After expending some of his nervous energy, he went out to resume pretending that he was okay.

Eventually, the dinner wound down, and Ranma agreed to take Akari and Ryouga to Kita to visit Akane. The train ride was pleasant, and though Ranma was jealous of their happiness, he felt that Ryouga had repented multiple times over for how he had wronged Akane, and deserved to be content – but, then again, that was really for Akane to decide. As the train sped on, Ranma began to get more and more nervous, but tried not to let it show. He talked and talked, and listened, and caught up on old times. He felt, despite his nervousness, that having all the "crazies" back in his life wasn't necessarily a bad thing, especially when they were the best friends he'd ever had.

Eventually they reached their stop, and stepped out of the train. They were laughing and talking and not really paying attention, so they didn't notice who was waiting for them on the platform. "Ryouga?" Akane's voice quavered out at them in the dimness of the train station.

Ranma's senses screamed DANGER! But as he looked around and found her standing pensively next to a bench, he saw that Akane, while obviously angry, was slowly but surely calming down as she looked the three of them over. "What are you doing here?" She looked at Ranma suspiciously for a moment, then at Ryouga, and down at his hand clasped firmly in Akari's.

Ryouga let Akari's hand go, got to his knees on the dirty ground, and bowed until his forehead touched the ground. "Akane, please forgive me. I meant you no harm or dishonor. My actions have no excuse, and I understand if you are still angry with me, but I hope that one day we can be friends," his voice was muffled against the ground, but the speech, Ranma noticed, brought tears to both Akari and Akane's eyes. Ryouga lifted his head slightly and smiled toothily at her, jabbing his thumb at Akari. "And I hope you'll come our wedding."

Speechless, Akane stood there, quaking in place. Ranma stared at her, and her eyes flicked over to him. He nodded, slowly, almost pleadingly. Tears streamed down her face unchecked as she nodded back, eyes widening a fraction. She walked over to Ryouga and helped him to his feet. She bowed slightly to him, and then hugged him. "Of course I forgive you – who could stay angry at their friend for this long and not forgive?" Ryouga laughed happily and hugged her back, patting her with his open palms so hard that she "oofed" a little. He gasped and pulled away.

"Oops, sorry! Don't know my own strength." Akane laughed a little breathlessly and punched him in the shoulder; he rubbed it with a small, playful wince.

Akari squealed and ran over, hugging them both. "I'm so happy!" she turned slightly as her captives tried, without much effort, to escape her grasp. "Ranma, get over here and hug with us! We're friends again, that's hug-worthy!" Hesitating, Ranma looked at Akane for a moment, but she was currently struggling in Akari's grip and giggling, too distracted to notice.

Ranma walked over and wrapped his arms around all of them, and they stood like that in silence for a few moments. He subtly took the hug as an opportunity to smell Akane's hair. Eventually, though, they all pulled away, Akari and Ryouga still holding hands. Akane invited them back to her place, and she and Akari walked ahead as they started back, cooing over Akari's simple silver engagement ring.

"Hey, Ranma," Ryouga said _sotto voce_, keeping one eye on the women ahead of them, "are you and Akane…?" he looked almost hopeful, so Ranma felt pathetic when he had to shake his head. "Why?"

"She… has a fiancée," Ryouga hissed in a sympathetic breath, and Ranma sighed wearily – no one understood the pain of that more than Ryouga, "yeah, and the guy seems like a real asshole."

"Of course you think that – I thought that about you." Ryouga grinned mischievously and Ranma snorted and threw a lazy punch at him, which he swatted easily aside with the force of a kicking horse. Ranma shook his numb hand out and felt a little sorry for Akari – Ryouga really needed to learn how to control his strength.

"Yeah, well, he might really be an asshole – like, not just a jerk, like me," Ranma stared at the back of Akane's head for a moment, feeling sick to his stomach, "I never thought I'd lose her like this, Ryouga." They reached the apartment and went inside. Ranma was relieved to see that Takahiro wasn't there, but soured when he saw that he'd left Akane a note. She read it and smiled broadly.

"Takahiro, my fiancée, says he bought some mochi for me, how sweet! I'll get it and we can share!" Akane left the room, and her guests situated themselves around the table as she bustled around the kitchen.

"Your apartment is lovely, Akane." Akari said happily.

"Oh, thanks, I really like it a lot, but it's expensive. Luckily, movies, even lame parts, pay well!" she beamed as she transferred the sticky little treats to a plate.

"You're in movies!" Akari cried excitedly.

Akane nodded rapidly and swept over to the table, setting the tray down. She looked at Ranma and smiled. "Look, Ranma, the baker put little letters on them for our names; here, this one's yours," Akane gave him a mochi with an English 'R' painted on it with some kind of red syrup. There were six more on the tray, one labeled with a 'T' and rest with an 'A.'

"Yeah," Akane began, picking up on the talk about her movie career, "I met Takahiro on the set of my last movie. He was friends with the producer." She bit into the mochi and made little "mm" noises. Ryouga and Akari each started eating theirs, but Ranma looked down at his suspiciously.

Something was nagging at him. Something he hadn't registered. He stared at the benign little pastry and frowned before reaching down and starting in on it. But he knew, in his mind, something was off. The mochi seemed… wetter, and Ranma did not quite feel like finishing it. Ryouga offered to, and Ranma pushed the plate over to him. Akane glared at him a little bit, but didn't say anything, and he sulked for the rest of the meal.

They finished off half of the mochi, and Akane put the rest away and set about making tea. Akari and Ryouga talked to her from their position on the sofa, about wedding plans and the renovations being made to the farm to accommodate a potential family. Ranma listened to them, and started to sweat, despite that Akane's apartment had AC. His mouth started to tingle, and he smacked his lips a little, confused. Akane came over with the tea, and the tingling sensation increased. And then he felt drool slipping down his chin and wiped his mouth in embarrassment, but no one seemed to notice.

"Hey, whoa, you okay?" Ryouga asked worriedly as Ranma swooned drunkenly for a minute. He felt light-headed, and exhausted. No, Ranma wanted to say, he was not okay. He felt like shit. "S'okay…" he managed. His tongue felt swollen, and he started to wheeze as the breath in his lungs felt more and more constricted. Spots crawled across his vision like flies, and he was dimly aware of someone calling his name, but that couldn't be right, because he was in the midst of a black anthill, and all he could feel were their tiny legs and mouths…

Lips pressed against his, and hands were on his chest. "Breathe, Ranma, breathe!" a voice he heard in his dreams, a voice he listened for whenever he thought he might hear it. "Call the hospital!" He felt her hands on his chest, pressing, too hard, pushing the air out of him, but then she breathed life into him, over and over until the world closed itself to him.


	18. Chapter 17

He swam through darkness to the lights dancing in front of him. Groaning, he squinted and tried to put his hand over his eyes, but found that it wouldn't move. "What the fuck…?" Ranma questioned, his voice hoarse. He felt like someone had rubbed glass on the inside of his muscles, and his mouth tasted like a boot.

"You're awake! Just relax, you're strapped down to keep from falling out of bed – you were seizing." A blurry face, Akane's face, came into view sideways, and Ranma groaned and turned away.

"Can you… shut off… the lights…?" he gasped out. There was a rustling sound, and then the room was plunged into blessed darkness. Ranma sighed in relief and relaxed.

"How are you? I should go get the doctor!" Ranma's hand snapped out to the limits the straps would allow and grabbed for Akane's wrist. He caught it and held it.

"Please, don' leave," she stopped and he felt her sit down on the edge of the bed, "can you unstrap me?" He opened his eyes and saw her silhouette nod in the darkness. She moved around and unstrapped his arms and legs, and helped him sit up against the pillows. When he was settled, he glanced around the room briefly, registered the familiar shapes of a hospital room – he'd spent plenty of time in them after his more difficult fights. Akane reached behind him and pushed the call button for the nurse. "What day is it? What happened to me?"

"It's Monday afternoon… um… you were poisoned." Akane said softly. There was silence for a time, a time during which Ranma didn't look at her. He was remembering something, something that made his eyes narrow.

"The doctor said the poison was… tetrodotoxin, I think. I called Kasumi, because the doctor was vague; she said you… could get it from a fugu fish." Ranma nodded, slowly. Akane took in a breath, and let it out. "Ryouga got a little sick, but he could even handle my cooking back in the day, so— Ranma, please, say something!" she grabbed his arm and he turned, slowly, to look at her.

"Do you love him, Akane?" She tried to turn away, "Look me in the eye. Tell me you love him." Akane looked him dead in the face, glaring.

"It's none of your business." She stood and left the room. Ranma sighed and let his chin fall to his chest with defeat. Footsteps returned, but he could tell that they weren't Akane's.

"Hoo, you wanna keep it dark in here?" Ranma nodded at who he assumed was the nurse. It was a man, shorter than him and skinny. "Doctor'll be along in a minute." He said after an extended silence, and then left the room as well.

Ranma waited, and remembered. Remembered that Ichiro's last name was Arai, remembered that Takahiro's last name was Arai. Ranma remembered, and remembering made his fists clench into the sheets so hard he heard them tear a little. "No forgiveness." He said quietly to the darkness.


	19. Chapter 18

Akane took him home the next day, after calling his parents to tell them that he was okay. The doctors were flabbergasted at his ability to recover, and Ranma ignored their questions after his health. He was completely uninterested in his own recovery. A two-day stay in the hospital was enough time for him to formulate a plan, enough time for him to stew and think and debate with himself. He knew what he had to do.

"Akane," Ranma said quietly to her across the taxi she had called for them, wearing the sweatpants and tank top that she'd brought for him, but still feeling discomfort from his illness, "I'm sorry."

"No, Ranma, I'm sorry, I was wrong to snap at you like that," she paused, and he turned and looked at her; she was staring out the window of the cab, but she must have felt him looking at her because she turned to stare at him, smiling slightly, "I guess… I think, maybe, you, if anyone, have the right to ask."

Ranma reached across the back seat and took her hand. The cabbie deliberately and politely ignored them, but even if all Japan was listening, Ranma didn't care. "No, M'sorry, because I might get yer fiancée arrested." Her eyes widened, and then narrowed, and he grit his teeth and readied himself to say what was on his mind. "Akane, there was a man who came to Master Gyaru's dojo, wantin' me to fight."

"What does that have to do with anything?" she snapped, looking at him warily. She didn't move her hand, however.

"His name was Ichiro Arai, and he's the reason Master Gyaru is in the hospital for the next five weeks." Akane's frown deepened, and then her eyes widened, and her mouth formed a little 'o.'

"It's a common name, Ranma," she whispered, squinting at him, "it's a common name, it means nothing."

Ranma stroked her hand, enjoying the contact despite the context of their conversation. "It might mean nothin', but you mean somethin' to me," she looked away, blushing, and he licked suddenly dry lips, feeling woozy, "an' I just wanted to tell you, that if somethin' happens to Takahiro… It don't mean nothin' between us."

The cab pulled to a stop as Akane turned her head slowly to stare at him. Ranma let go of her hand and got out, stumbling slightly. His head swam, and the sunlight hurt – maybe he wasn't all better, after all. "Ranma?" Akane shouted. He was aware of a door slamming, and small hands on him, and more door slamming, and more hands, and tugging. He might have passed out at some point, because the next thing he knew he was on Makoto's futon, and Akane was sitting next to him, quietly stroking his hair. When his eyes fluttered fully open, she pulled her hand away, and his body ached at the loss of contact.

"I'll let you get some rest." She got up and left the room, and Ranma let her. Once the door closed, he looked around, and spotted what he wanted: a phone on Makoto's desk. Kenichi had given him a card last time they spoke, and he dug it out of the pocket of his jeans, which were folded neatly at the end of the bed. He picked up the phone and dialed, speaking quietly, not wanting Akane to hear.

"Hey, Kenichi, it's Ranma."

"Hey, Ranma," Kenichi sounded confused, "you don't sound so great."

"Psh, yeah, I was fuckin' poisoned." Kenichi was silent for a moment. "By my ex-fiancée's new fiancée." Kenichi let out a breath, static crackled.

"Ranma, that's a very severe accusation."

Ranma scoffed. "Fuck that, I've got witnesses. Akari Unryu and Ryouga Hibiki, they saw me eat the mochi that was poisoned, and! And…!" he whispered loudly, feeling the small struggle to breathe coming back for a moment. "And," he finally gasped out, "he has the same last name as Ichiro."

"Who does?"

"Her fiancée, Takahiro Arai. You look into him, okay?"

Kenichi was quiet again. "I'll talk to my brother," he said softly, "but don't expect any miracles, and don't do anything stupid, okay? We have to be careful."

Ranma frowned. "Do you believe me?"

"Yes." Kenichi didn't even hesitate, and Ranma felt tears sting his eyes at the man's trust; his own father didn't even trust him that much.

"Thanks." They exchanged more information, about Ranma's doctor and the hospital, and the strange fugu fish poison that had got into his system. Then they said their goodbyes and hung up.

Ranma put the phone back on its cradle and laid down on the futon, sighing and throwing his arm over his eyes. He fell asleep and awoke sometime later, feeling slightly better. At least, he was able to sit up without feeling dizzy. He frowned upon registering raised voices in the apartment, and tensed, listening.

"Akane, listen to me, for once, please?" Nabiki – she sounded almost desperate.

"Listen to what? Listen to you call my boyfriend a murderer?" Akane, angry.

There was silence for a minute.

"This isn't what I came here to do, Sis. I didn't come here to fight."

"It sure sounds like that's what you came to do. You didn't care about Takahiro so much until Ranma showed up!"

"That's not true, Akane! I didn't like him before that!"

"Oh, real nice Nabs! Thanks a lot! Great to know you have such confidence in my taste in men!"

"Akane… do not put words in my mouth." There was a long silence this time, and Ranma gripped his sweatpants. The room suddenly seemed hotter.

"I'm sorry… I'm… Ranma… he has me… I'm confused, I'm so confused, Nabiki." He heard Akane start crying, and wanted to burst through the door to get to her, but he remained still.

"I know, I'm sorry. I didn't realize having him back would upset you this much."

Akane's voice was muffled, and he didn't hear her response. "Yeah, I know sweetie – it's okay to feel pre-wedding jitters." Another silence, and then a sniffled reply from Akane that he, again, couldn't hear. "I'll talk to Ranma, okay? Why don't I bring him back to Kasumi's tonight? I don't know what possessed you to invite him here in the first place."

"Because," there were tears in her voice, but he heard Akane clearly, "I felt bad… I kicked him out once, I couldn't just abandon him again."

"Did he apologize?"

"Yeah… and he meant it – he's never said he's sorry without meaning it."

A pause. "Do you want me to take him back to Kasumi's."

Akane sighed, loudly. "I don't know!" Ranma decided now would be a good time to show himself. He stood up and walked over to the door, opening it and stepping out, head lowered guiltily; it was no use pretending he hadn't heard them, he couldn't hope to lie to Akane, and certainly not Nabiki.

"Oh, Ranma, we didn't know you were awake." Nabiki said dryly, folding her arms over her chest.

Ranma turned to Akane and bowed. "Akane, if y'want me to, I'll leave." He couldn't bear to look at her face. The silence seemed to last a lifetime.

"No, no, stay, it's okay," she paused, "Takahiro just got a little jealous when I was in the hospital with you." He righted himself, and as he looked into her tearful face, she looked away, and he knew she was lying about something. It stung, but he was sure she was just trying to spare his feelings, anyway.

"I'll let you two talk," Nabiki said quietly. She walked over and hugged him, kissing his cheek. "I'm really glad you're okay, Bro," he saw Akane tense out of the corner of his eye, "not that anything can put you down for long eh?"

"Nope."

"Good to hear it," she moved to go, then stopped and turned back around, "I almost forgot, Toya just got back from an overseas trip. He wants to meet you both," she smirked, "I told him you had food poisoning. Lemme know when you're up for dinner at Chez Blanc." And then she hugged and kissed her sister, and left.

In the silence that followed, Ranma and Akane stared at each other. Neither of them moved, Ranma, for his part, breathed laboriously, and Akane quietly sniffled. Eventually, he walked over and sat down next to her on the sofa, taking her hand as he had in the cab. She let him, with a sort of resigned sigh. "Akane…" he started, but didn't know what to say. So he just sat there, holding her hand, stroking her knuckles. He noticed something odd. "Hey, where's your engagement ring?"

"Oh, that," she flushed, embarrassed, "I don't wear it. It's really expensive, and I don't wanna lose it."

Ranma snorted. "Really?"

She hung her head again, "No, not really," she looked at him from under her bangs, "I just don't like it, but I don't have the heart to tell Toya." She reached into her shorts' pocket with her free hand and pulled out a gold ring encrusted with small pearls and diamonds. "I hate diamonds."

Ranma reached for it, and then held back, not really wanting to touch it. "It is pretty gaudy," Ranma felt like he should say something in Toya's defense, despite suspecting him of trying to kill him, "but he must really l-love you if he got you somethin' so pretty."

"Yeah," Akane said softly. She leaned towards him slightly, slipping the ring into her pocket. "I guess so."

Ranma's eyes darted to her lips, felt his own tingling, but not from any poison. She was close now, just a few inches away. "I'm sorry it's so confusin' havin' me around." His voice was raw with emotion, and his arms felt tense, knotted like cords of rope.

"I was always confused around you," he could feel her breath on his mouth, "I never stopped being confused. People… confuse me…"

"Me too…" suddenly she let out a sensuous breath, and then she pulled quickly away. Ranma stayed where he was, lips ready to purse, face red as a cherry. Akane stood up, letting his hand flop into his lap bonelessly. He relaxed slightly, turning on the sofa to watch her. She had her hands over her face and she was breathing heavily.

"Akane? What is it? I'm sorry, I—" He was cut off by a knock at the door that made her jump. She quickly dug the ring out and slipped it on, going to the door to open it.

Takahiro stood on the other side, wearing an expensive suit. "Hey, Akane… whoa, why aren't you dressed?" Takahiro looked over her shoulder at Ranma and smiled, but Ranma saw the venom underneath it.

His blood was boiling, and his heart beat so fast he thought it was going to erupt from his chest, run across the room and smash into Takahiro's stupid face.

"Oh, jeez, I'm sorry. I forgot about our date, Takahiro," she looked back at Ranma, then back at Takahiro, obviously concerned. "Ranma's been ill, you know…"

"I'll be fine by myself, Akane," Ranma said, trying to put as much strength into his voice as he could.

"See, he's fine." Takahiro said. Akane looked back and forth between the two of them, and then frowned.

"Well, okay, but I'm going to tell one of the neighbors to check in on you." She looked at him as if daring to argue, and he smiled at her warmly. She flushed a little and turned quickly back to her fiancée. "Lemme just get a shower and get dressed, ok?"

"No problem, babe – I think the table will wait for us, eh?" he winked and she laughed and kissed him. She went to her room, and then came back out with a towel and a dark blue dress.

"Be nice," Akane murmured at both of them before disappearing into the bathroom.

Ranma stared at Takahiro. Takahiro stared back. He stepped inside and slipped out of his shoes, shutting the door behind him, and Ranma didn't even blink.

Even feeling like he had the strength of a puppy, Ranma felt confident he could bust Takahiro's skull open. As the shower started, he briefly wondered how angry Akane would be if he pummeled her boyfriend until he had to feed himself with his feet.

Probably pretty upset.

"So, feeling better?" Takahiro said casually, glancing over the books on Akane's shelf.

"Nope, I feel like shit," Ranma said bluntly, sitting up a little and flexing his arms a little as he folded them over his chest, "where you guys goin' out?"

"A little Mongolian grill that Akane likes." He picked up one of the dirty manga Ranma had found on his first day at Akane's apartment, flipped through it with a smirk before replacing it on the shelf. "She won't believe you."

"Eh, she's never believed nothin' I said, anyway." Ranma kept his voice even. Maybe, just maybe, he could keep Takahiro talking long enough for the shower to stop and for Akane to hear him.

"I'm not an idiot, Saotome," Takahiro turned slightly, his earring catching the light and glittering; his expression was dangerous, but not quite angry, "I know she's still in love with you."

"You so sure? She didn't believe me 'bout you – can't have love without trust, fucker."

Takahiro scoffed. "Whatever. Point is, I got what Akane needs, and you don't have anything to offer. You're just confusing her, and you need to get lost."

Ranma leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He felt the energy crackling between them, and knew that if he wasn't careful there was going to be a brawl in Akane's apartment. "I'll leave the minute she asks. I respect her." As he said it, he knew it was true: he respected her. If she wanted to marry someone else, he wouldn't stand in her way. She could judge for herself who was important, who was good, who was just.

"She won't ask, she's too nice you moron," he smirked triumphantly, "she probably thinks you're crazy, accusing her fiancée of trying to poison you."

Ranma grinned ferally. "She told you that, eh? When was this, hm?"

"She won't believe you." He repeated. The shower cut off, and he smiled with saccharinely. "Yeah, I know. She's gonna look hot in that little loincloth," he paused dramatically, putting his hand against his cheek exaggeratedly, "whoops! Sorry babe!"

"You tease!" Akane called out from the bathroom.

Ranma almost snarled, refusing to be baited. After a few minutes, Akane came out of the bathroom, dressed and Ranma's expression softened. The dress she was wearing was plain, but the color was well-suited to her skin; she looked beautiful, free of make-up or any sort of ornament.

"Aw, babe, you aren't gonna wear that red dress I bought you?" Takahiro pouted in a way that Ranma suspected was supposed to be cute.

Akane tossed her still-wet hair and sighed exasperatedly, grabbing her satchel. "No, it's too small." She murmured, slipping into a pair of strappy sandals. "Ranma, I'm going to ask Mrs. Kobayashi to check in on you every so often, okay?"

Ranma shrugged and forced a smile on his face. "Yeah, sure, have fun."

"There's some leftover kappa-maki in the fridge, and, um," she had to pause as Takahiro kissed her ear and nuzzled her throat, narrowing his eyes at Ranma, who dug his fingers into the knees of his pants until his knuckles turned white. Giggling, Akane pushed Takahiro away and turned back to Ranma. "Get some rest, ok?"

"Go on, go on!" he waved them off, and Akane smiled at him, almost sadly. And then they left.

Ranma sat there for a long time afterwards. He stared at the door, willing it to open and for her to walk back through it.


	20. Chapter 19

Ranma slept on and off throughout the day, eating little. He didn't feel one-hundred-percent, but he didn't feel like such crap, either. An old woman, Mrs. Kobayashi, came by twice to check on him, bringing some homemade orange juice the second time, for which he politely thanked her. When she didn't leave right away, he drank the entire glass and then handed it back, trying not to vomit – the juice was very acidic, and his insides twisted.

At least she left after that.

That night, however, as a result of his many naps, he lay wide awake on Makoto's futon. His muscles quivered on occasion, and his mouth still felt a little sticky and numb sometimes, but other than those few complaints, his resilient body had recovered quite effectively from the poison.

And he wasn't tired at all. He lay awake, stroking a hot pink furry pillow, pretending it was Kaibutsu's fur. The universe was screwing with him, he was sure of it. All the people he was missing come racing back into his life one after the other, but chasing on their heels were the snapping jaws of new enemies. And Akane…

He had to stop thinking about her. Regardless of what happened with the supposed "Arai Brothers" and their efforts to scare him into fighting in their little tournament, or whatever the hell they were trying to do, he had to stop thinking about Akane. Getting her back could not be even an inkblot on his List of Things Ranma Needs to Do to Live. He loved her, still, he was sure of that. No one in his life came close to making him feel the way she did, no one brought him more joy even when they were tugging at his heartstrings with the strength of an ox.

Glancing at Makoto's bedside clock, Ranma groaned at the time: nine, and he felt as fresh as a daisy – a poisoned daisy, at any rate. Ranma executed a quick Chinese Getup, stumbling a little as his unused limbs wobbled. If he couldn't sleep, and he couldn't beat the ever-loving crap out of some yakuza, he was going to practice.

Akane's living room was quickly arranged so that there was enough empty space for him to work out without breaking anything. "Anything else," he muttered, staring at the corner of her counter, hastily patched by his inexperienced hand. Even after having to repair the Tendou Dojo so many times, he still wasn't very handy.

He went through some warm-up exercises with some weights stacked by Akane's bookshelf. As urged his body to work with him, Ranma wondered how much Akane still practiced the art, and then quickly pushed the thought from his mind – he wasn't supposed to be thinking about her.

He let himself get lost in the feeling of his muscles snapping back to attention, lost himself in the sweat and the burn. He put down the weights and went through a few basic kata, watching his limbs snap out from his body like whips, satisfied at his own ability to recover from something that would have killed the average person.

Ranma Saotome, Above Average. It didn't sound glamorous…

Eventually his eyes wandered over to the pictures of Takahiro on the wall and he paused mid palm-strike, sweat dripping down his forehead and pooling in the corner of his open mouth. He resisted the urge to spit it out, and wiped his face with his shirt, instead, then tossed the sweaty garment through the open bathroom door. Taking a few deep breaths, Ranma studied the pictures for a few moments.

Ranma knew some Capoeira, and while he was not even a graduado, he knew what the moves were for, knew how they were formed. Twisting his body, Ranma flipped onto his hands and proceeded to copy the photos, going through each move – they were a progression through a single move, he now saw after studying them more. The cartwheel, or aú, a standard, almost continuous motion in Capoeira. Ranma did the motion over and over, starting from one end of the living room and moving to the other, then back again, over and over until his arms burned and his chest ached and his legs kept trying to flop forward and knock him in the teeth with each swing of his body.

Ranma was moving through his last intended aú, heading back toward the door, when it suddenly swung open. Akane stepped through and let out a surprised yelp. It happened in slow motion, and he was too far into the move to reverse, but he tried. He snapped his legs to the side desperately, trying to swing his body the other way, but he needn't have worried.

Even wearing a dress and sandals, Akane reacted like an artist. She dropped like a stone and rolled backwards into the hallway, coming up into a handstand. Ranma flopped down on the floor in a heap of lost momentum, and stared at her as she carefully performed a front split. Her dress was around her waist, but the ever-present running shorts protected her modesty. She came down on first one small foot, then the other, to face him with a surprised expression.

"What the hell are you doing?" Akane asked without heat, laughing a little and helping him to his feet. He tottered a bit, the blood rushing from his head and into his legs and arms so fast he felt dizzy. "Whoa, whoa, careful!" Akane grabbed him around the shoulders and walked him over to the couch. When he was settled, she went back and retrieved her fallen satchel from the hallway and closed the door behind her before slipping out of her shoes.

"Sorry, I didn't know when you'd be home," Ranma said lamely, feeling suddenly embarrassed at having been caught copying her stupid boyfriend.

Akane glared at him, dropping her satchel on the floor with a thud. "You need to rest, why are you cart wheeling around my apartment?" she walked over to her bedroom while staring at him. Ranma watched, blushing, as she pulled her dress off over her head, but then breathed out, half in disappointment, half in relief, when he saw the white tank top underneath it. Akane caught him watching her and looked away; the backs of her knees turned red and he felt his stomach clench in excitement.

"Couldn't sleep," he muttered, "wanted t'practice a bit." He stretched, and Akane watched him out of the corner of her eye. He was satisfied to see that she appeared to be fascinated by his rippling stomach muscles. "That was a pretty good move back there; you been practicin'?"

At that Akane scoffed and turned to face him head-on, folding her arms over her chest. "Puh-lease, Ranma," she said sarcastically, "I'm in action movies, of course I practice." She smirked arrogantly. "I bet I practice more than you."

"No way, lady – I practice every day. I was workin' at a damn dojo." He stood, feeling his strength rushing back; his adrenaline had spiked when he almost tumbled into her, and now all her exposed flesh was reinvigorating him.

"Oh yeah? Wanna spar?" she asked coyly, strutting over toward the door. "Or are you still scared to touch girls?"

"You think you can take me?" he said, feigning shock, enjoying the back-and-forth immensely, like a stand-off before a fight. "You're on. I won't go easy on ya', though."

"Whatever, Rambo. Follow me, I'm not fighting in my apartment." She grabbed her keys and he followed her out into the hallway. They padded softly across the foyer, through a pair of sliding glass doors, and out into a small grassy recreation area at the center of several other surrounding apartment buildings. Motion-triggered lights buzzed on as they stepped outside. In the light, Ranma noted there was a wooden practice dummy in one corner.

"That yours?" He inquired, stretching out in the cooler night air and nodding towards the well-worn wooden post.

Akane glanced at it as she reached down to touch her toes, folding herself so neatly in half he could have fit her under the sofa. "Yeah, Takahiro bought it for me," she paused, hemming and hawing for a moment, "um, he likes that I practice the art."

"That's good. You ready?" he changed the subject quickly, standing up and bouncing around on the balls of his feet.

Akane stretched a bit more and then bowed to him, a gesture he returned. They settled into mirrored Horse stances. "Are you going to dance around me like usual?" Akane asked casually.

"Prolly." Before the word finished leaving his lips, he erupted from his stance and flew at his former fiancée, feinting a hammer fist at her open chest. Akane moved inside the feint, instead of blocking, and Ranma quickly changed the direction his hand was going, swiping a sword hand at her exposed neck. Akane saw, but was slower than he was. As she tried to duck, he caught her upside the head, with only a quarter of the force he would use had he been fighting anyone, anyone but her.

A look of disgust crossed her face, a familiar look he'd seen whenever they'd done what passed for sparring together. Akane's hand snaked up his bare chest, her touch electric despite the fact that he felt her fist curling in preparation for an uppercut to his chin that might send him all the way to Kyoto – at least he had family there.

Ranma leapt up, straight up, and watched her eyes glimmering in the light as she followed his movements. He brought his knees up to his chest and tilted forward, sailing over her head and twisting, landing lightly behind her and tapping the back of her head.

He meant for it to be nostalgic. Akane either missed his intentions, or did not feel the same way about their first sparring match.

"Sai!" her yell was savage. She reached both hands behind her and boxed his ears like he was a naughty child. Ranma yelped and shook his head back and forth, putting his hands up in a defensive posture as his ears rang. Akane gasped and turned around, rushing to him.

"I'm so sorry, Ranma! I… I don't know what— AAH!" Ranma grinned triumphantly at her shriek, and when his foot connected with the side of her leg and brought her to the ground. She reached out to grasp his calf with her claw-like hand, but he danced out of her reach.

"Tsk, tsk, too slow, Akane!" he teased, sticking out his tongue. He was rewarded for his teasing with a well-executed arrastao that surprised him enough that it actually caught him. Falling hard on his hip, Ranma winced.

Akane followed through with the whip-like motion of her lower body, balanced still on her hands, looking like a male gymnast at the pommel horse. She came up on one hand and pressed herself off the ground and up on to her feet with a happy little sigh, "Looks like Akane wins by a takedown!" She made various crowd noises, hissing and cheering quietly as she did a little circuit around the yard.

Ranma hated Takahiro. "He show you that?" he asked, standing and brushing grass off of his sweatpants.

Nodding, coming down off of her high so visibly she seemed to shrink, Akane frowned. "Yeah, Takahiro knew the producer on _Mark of the Blood Oni_… 'cause he's a stuntperson, like me," she paused, fiddling with the hem of her shorts, "you're still really good, Ranma."

He shrugged. "Yeah, well I toldja, I practice every day," he smiled at her, "you're good, too, y'know. Got better."

It was her turn to shrug. "Yeah, well, I'm still a bruiser at heart – no fanciness in my technique. That's why they want me as Jun-Li," she laughed, "have you seen her legs, she looks like a horse in that game!" Ranma admired Akane's thighs even while he laughed in agreement.

Akane's could probably crush that horse.

"You an' I should practice together, y'know?" he missed running with Kaibutsu, every day, but if he got to train with Akane… well, it would take some of the edge off.

"Oh? Yeah, well, if you take me seriously, maybe." She turned her nose up and started back inside.

"Hey, I take you plenny seriously; I hit ya', didn't I?" He felt a little hurt – he'd tried, he really had.

"Pfft, whatever, Ranma; you think I'm a porcelain doll, and in the same breath you'll call me a gorilla," she opened the sliding glass door and stepped into the foyer, "make up your mind, then we'll practice."

Ranma sighed in annoyance and followed her inside.


	21. Chapter 20

As he lay in bed, sweat from their sparring session and the heat cooling against the sheets, Ranma felt … distracted. Sparring with Akane, watching her wander around in her tiny yellow shorts had made things stir in him. His sweatpants were uncomfortably tight, and his stomach muscles felt like they were trying to do somersaults without the rest of his body participating. He tossed and turned, trying to ignore his raging hard-on. Masturbating in Makoto's room seemed sacrosanct, so he pinched his cheek until it hurt enough to make his pants loosen.

Even after that, it was almost two in the morning before Ranma finally drifted off to sleep. And his sleep was restless. He awoke feeling sorer than he had in a long time. Groaning, he glanced at the clock on Makoto's desk; it was eight-thirty on a Wednesday, and he was late for nothing.

Slipping out of bed, Ranma grimaced at the feeling of his filthy body, wishing he hadn't bypassed the shower last night. He stood and stretched some of the acid-burn feeling out of his muscles, briefly happy that there weren't any residual ill-effects from the poison that morning.

Happiness turned quickly to rage.

Ranma clenched his fists and stood in the dim room, breathing heavily until he calmed himself down. Takahiro would be punished, and so would Ichiro. Kenichi would see to it, Ranma knew, but that didn't make him want to deliver some old-fashioned justice to the two of them in the form of a very sound beating.

Stepping out into the living room and shutting the door behind him, Ranma looked around and saw no sign of Akane. Shrugging, he walked over to the bathroom, eager for a shower.

The door swung open at his gentle insistence, and too late he realized that Akane might be in it. But he was met with the disappointing sight of an empty bathroom. Smiling at the thought of Akane cold-cocking him and calling him a pervert for wanting a peep at her, he stepped fully into the bathroom. He looked around for the shirt he'd tossed into the bathroom last night, but it was absent – he wondered guiltily if Akane was doing his laundry, hoped she wasn't.

He stripped and turned on the shower and waited for it to heat up, looking around the Western-style bathroom out of idleness. His eyes fell casually on the small green trashcan and he spotted a familiar little foil packet and his stomach lurched.

A condom, a used condom. He gagged openly, surprised at the violent reaction he had at the thought of Akane with someone else – or maybe it was just Takahiro. "Fuck you, asshole," Ranma groused quietly, stepping into the shower and almost slamming the sliding glass door closed.

Akane was a grown woman, she could sleep with whomever she wanted to, but Takahiro… "Murderer…" Ranma growled, even though he was, literal, living proof that Takahiro was particularly bad at that profession.

He scrubbed off viciously and then yanked at the knobs until the shower turned off, and dried himself with a towel. Wrapping it around his waist, he stepped out into the living room. A tiny squeaking sound surprised him, and he looked up and to the right through his wet bangs at an unfamiliar woman coming through the door.

"Uhh…" he said intelligently.

The woman was about his age, with long black hair tied back into loose ponytail, and bright black eyes. She was very pretty, and she was staring, open-mouthed, at his bare chest, and her eyes trailed down for a moment before she tore her gaze back up to his face, her own red.

Ranma's towel might as well have been a postage stamp.

"I- I should… uhm," the woman put her hands over her eyes and just stood there, "can you… get dressed before I smack you and start yelling?"

"Makoto! You're back early!" Akane's shouted reached them just a few seconds before she slid to a stop in front of the doorway, just behind Makoto. She, too, blushed at the sight of a damp Ranma clutching his towel like it was a life preserver.

"I'll go get dressed." Ranma squeaked out, watching as the women's eyes followed him, Makoto's peeping out from between her fingers. He slipped into her room and shut the door, just barely suppressing a smirk – Akane's face was worth the embarrassment.


	22. Chapter 21

After he was dressed in jeans and a shirt, Ranma ventured back into the living room. Makoto and Akane were sitting on the couch together. He'd heard a whispered argument between them, but he couldn't understand what they were saying. They stopped talking the minute he entered the room, and smiled at him.

If they had been arguing, there was no way to tell now.

"Hey, Ranma – this is Makoto Hisamura. Makoto, this is Ranma Saotome, freeloader extraordinaire." At his cross look, Akane just laughed.

Ranma faced Makoto and bowed. "Sorry to intrude on yer room an' stuff, Miss Hisamura."

Makoto smiled. "Don't worry about it. Akane called me and told me all about it," she flushed, "I just sorta… forgot that you were here."

"Well, I'll get outta yer hair now that yer back," he caught the look of panic on Akane's face, and tried to ignore it, "Nabiki'll be leavin' soon I bet, mebbe I can move in with Kasumi an' Ono." He moved to go pack his stuff. There was a quickly whispered conversation between Akane and her roommate, and then Akane was up and off the couch.

"No, Ranma, you- you can stay here," she paused, looked back at Makoto, who just smiled wider, "you can take the couch." Akane finished lamely.

Ranma half-smiled. "That's real nice of ya', but I really should jus' leave."

Akane looked hurt. "Well, at least come out to dinner with Nabiki and her boyfriend tonight? If you're feeling better, that is." She added hastily.

"I'd like that." He turned on his heel and headed into the bedroom, shutting the door so that he could pack in peace. The girls whispered some more as Ranma shoved his meager belongings into his pack. He couldn't find the missing tank top, and shrugged – it was just an undershirt anyway.

When he was packed he went back into the living room. Makoto was on a cell phone in the kitchen, and Akane was on the sofa, reading through the script for the _Street Warrior_ movie. "Is Takahiro comin' to dinner tonight?" Ranma asked, trying to sound casual.

Akane nodded almost imperceptibly, and his stomach clenched in disappointment. "Ah, okay, well… I'm gonna get somethin' to eat an' then call Kasumi." He excused himself to the kitchen, dancing around Makoto as he dug through the fridge for some leftovers to wolf down.

In the fridge, he saw the rest of the mochi, and his nostrils flared briefly. He shoved the offending pastries aside and dug around until he found some rice and egg. Makoto watched him eat with a pair of hashi that were already in the tub with a small grimace before leaving the room.

"Yeah, yeah, okay… okay! Jeez!" Makoto hung up the cell phone with a huff and tossed it onto the couch.

"What's wrong?" Akane asked, looking up from her script.

"It's my brother, he wants me to bring a date to Chez Blanc because you're bringing Takahiro." Makoto frowned, deeply. "He knows I just broke up with Toshio."

"I'll be your date," both Akane's and Makoto's heads whipped around to stare at him leaning against the counter, smiling, hashi still poised over the plastic tub of food, "I'm goin' anyway, right? Jus' tell 'im I'm yer date."

Makoto looked quickly at Akane, who seemed suddenly very interested in burying her face into the script. Seeing no other reaction, Makoto turned back to him and smiled. "Yeah, sure, thanks," she rolled her eyes, "my brother's overprotective. He doesn't like men ogling me in his grand presence."

Ranma smirked. "I'll keep my eyes to myself." She giggled and Akane gripped the script tighter. Makoto opened her mouth to say something, but the phone in her bedroom rang.

"Hold that thought… handsome." She added after a pause, before going to answer the phone.

"She on the phone a lot?" Ranma asked Akane.

"Mmm," Akane coughed a little behind the script, and he wished he could see her face, despite his own protests that he could not care about what she thought, "yeah, she's an… associate of Nabiki's." Ranma's eyes widened a little.

"Really?" he laughed out, and Akane lowered the script slightly and nodded at him. "Damn, no wonder Nabiki likes 'er brother."

Akane set the script in her lap, smoothing it with small hands – Ranma glanced at the deep creases in the paper and resisted the urge to smirk.


	23. Chapter 22

Later that evening, Ranma, dressed in a nice suit borrowed from Ono that just barely fit, stood outside Akane's apartment and knocked on the door. He'd moved his stuff back to Kasumi's earlier that day, and met the questioning eyes of the elder Tendou sisters with a sad smile. They knew he couldn't just move in on Akane, not when she had a life of her own.

Even if that life included a murderous boyfriend.

Ranma's knuckles cracked as he clenched his fist; luckily it wasn't the one holding the small bouquet of white lilies, for friendship, that Kasumi had suggested he bring. He was never very good at giving flowers to his previous girlfriends – they all seemed to know hanakotoba, the Flower Language, and Ranma always seemed to give the wrong ones. "Oh, it's your birthday? Here are some carnations" seemed perfectly natural to him, but apparently when your girlfriend knows how to "read" flowers, it told her you were disappointed she was even born.

Ranma's cheek tingled slightly at the memory.

His knock was eventually answered by Makoto. She was wearing a slinky violet dress that went well with her eyes, and dipped low in the front. Dutifully not letting his gaze fall any lower than her prominent collar bones, Ranma handed her the lilies and was rewarded with a lazy, very Nabiki-like smile. "Nice, Ranma – lilies, very sweet," she sniffed them and motioned for him to come inside. He stood just inside the doorway.

Takahiro stared at him from the couch, shimmering suit jacket open to show off his half-buttoned, floral-patterned shirt. He looked like a lounge lizard.

"Hey, Takahiro." Ranma said evenly, slipping out of his borrowed dress shoes and stepping further into the apartment. Makoto looked back and forth between them for a moment.

"Hey, Ranma; nice suit." He didn't sound like he thought Ranma's suit was very nice, he sounded like he wanted to turn Ranma into miso.

"Thanks, yours is pretty ugly, man." Makoto snorted, and politely covered her mouth whilst she giggled. Ranma swore he saw steam come out of Takahiro's ears, and grinned. "It's always better to be honest, Takahiro."

He opened his mouth to retort, but Akane chose that moment to emerge from her room, and Takahiro clamped his mouth shut and settled for smirking at him instead. Akane was wearing a very small red dress that barely brushed her knees, and had straps as thin as a thought.

"Hey, babe, you're wearing the dress I bought you," Takahiro said smoothly, reaching up and pulling her down onto the sofa with him carefully, "it looks great on you. Maybe we should just stay here, huh?" his hand brushed against her thigh and Akane pushed away from him embarrassedly.

Ranma saw Makoto's look, a look like poison, and she turned away and moved into the kitchen, muttering that she had to put her lilies in some water. Akane managed to disentangle herself from Takahiro just as another knock sounded at the door. "That'll be Nabs!" she said excitedly, rushing over to pull the door open.

But it wasn't. It was Officer Kentaro Miike out of uniform. Ranma glanced quickly at Takahiro – he was examining his fingernails, but his entire body screamed tension.

"Oh, uh," Kentaro seemed flustered at having a beautiful girl answer the door, "h-hello, um… I'm Officer Miike. You must be Akane Tendou, the woman Ranma Saotome is staying with?" he looked past her briefly and caught Ranma's eye.

Akane smiled at him. "Are you the one who brought him home after those boys tried to rob him?"

Kentaro nodded. "Yes, I am. May I come in, Miss Tendou?"

"Oh! Yes, please, Officer." He stepped inside and Akane closed the door after him. Ranma walked over to him and Akane bowed and moved away, but not too far.

"What's goin' on?" Ranma asked quietly.

"Let's talk in the foyer, hm?" Ranma nodded and they stepped out, Ranma bowing to Akane and closing the door behind them.

"Kenichi has a real hard-on for this case, Ranma; he was up all night and most of today working on it." Kentaro didn't bother being indirect.

"What case? Master Gyaru or…"

"The whole thing is all fucked, Ranma," he sighed, running a hand through his short brown hair, "I shouldn't even be talking to you about this, but my brother insisted that you'd do somethin' stupid if I didn't."

"Yeah, he's prolly right." Ranma said quietly.

Kentaro's expression was very serious. "Ranma, Kenichi's son died because he tried to go toe-to-toe with some yakuza trying to muscle their way in on his mother's business."

"Shit."

"Yeah, that's why he cares so much," Kentaro sighed, "he'd be older than you if he was still alive. And you better damn well keep livin', or my brother is going to crawl back in a bottle."

Ranma put up his hands when Kentaro poked him in the chest, hard. "Okay, okay."

"So, when I tell you what I'm about to tell you, promise me you aren't gonna go fuckin' anybody up, okay? I know what you little martial artist shits are like, and—"

"I get it, I get it! Jeez, yer worse than Akane…" Ranma muttered.

Kentaro didn't laugh. "That kid that tried to unzip you on Sunday is Kyoya Arai."

"No."

"Yes. He's the third son of Yamato Arai, and his father is not happy that we aren't pressing charges against you."

"Who's Yamato to me?" Ranma asked, not really wanting the answer.

"He's not someone you want to trifle with yourself, but we can handle him," Kentaro looked around for a minute, then back at Ranma, "it's the sons we're fuckin' worried about."

"Why? The one in there," he jutted his thumb at the closed door, "is not someone I give a squirt uh piss about, Kentaro."

"Well, you should, maybe even two or three. His record is completely clean, Ranma."

"Whazzat mean?"

"It means," Kentaro said patiently, as though Ranma were a five year old who needed to be told not to use the stove, "that he is protected."

"Protected, like by his dad?"

"By the Sakaume-gumi." Ranma frowned.

"But… I thought you said they was 'designated,' as in, they don't kill nobody. What's he poisonin' me an' beatin' the shit outta my boss for?" Ranma asked gruffly, anger flaring; they weren't even playing by the rules they had set out for themselves.

"I dunno, but when we talked to Yamato, he seemed really… irritated, like, he knew what was goin' on," Kentaro sighed, "I think you were right, Ranma. That tetrodotoxin came from the Arai family doctor—"

"Wait, wait, wait, why would a family doctor have tetro-whatsit?" Ranma interrupted, feeling his mouth stumble over the unfamiliar word.

"In small doses, it's for treating pain," Kentaro paused, his expression grave, "Ranma, he was trying to kill you, for real."

"Fuck, I know that." Ranma said cockily. "But he didn't, did he? And Ryouga, pfft, that ox was up and runnin' around like five hours later."

"He got a quarter of what you did, Ranma – jeez, really, only five hours?"

"Yeah."

"Damn…" silence stretched, and Kentaro seemed to recover from his initial shock. "Anyway, the point is, be careful. Don't eat anything you haven't prepared yourself, and—"

"Why the fuck don't you arrest him right now, he's right in there?" Ranma hissed angrily, pointing furiously at the door.

"Because we don't have enough evidence, Ranma – we arrested the baker who made the mochi, but he was just as surprised as we were that it was poisoned," Kentaro put his hand on Ranma's shoulder, "relax, it's gonna be okay. We'll get whoever did this, just sit tight."

"Sittin' around not doin' nothin' is worse than bein' poisoned." Ranma grumped, shoving his hands into the pockets of his suit.

Kentaro smirked. "I bet it is," he looked at his watch, "I better get going; gotta get some sleep." He punctuated the statement with a yawn and they shook hands. Kentaro left, and Ranma stood there watching his retreating back, shuffling around in his socks.

Warring within himself, Ranma swung the door open and stepped back inside Akane's apartment. Takahiro was, very deliberately, not looking at him. Ranma stood there, staring at him, fury waging a war with sense in his head. Akane and Makoto were in the kitchen, talking quietly. They glanced at him, he looked back, and then focused on Akane's beautiful face and wanted nothing more than to walk over, hug her, and tell her that her boyfriend was yakuza scum.

He opened his mouth to say something, but someone knocked again at the door, potentially saving him from embarrassment and a fight that he didn't need. "I'll get that…" Ranma sighed, turning around only to have the door open before he could touch the knob.

"Are you people ready to go, or what?" Nabiki asked brusquely as she stepped inside. On her heels was a young man in a suit as expensive as Ranma's old apartment. Nabiki, too, was dressed extravagantly, and her hair was pinned up in a modern, curly style.

"Wow, Nabs, you look great!" Akane came around the counter and hugged her sister. They seemed to share a quiet moment before Nabiki looked at Ranma with a proud smile.

"Ranma, this is Toya Hisamura," Ranma bowed to the handsome man, and Toya bowed back.

"It's so nice to meet you, finally, Ranma – I've heard so much about you from Nabiki and Kasumi."

"It's all lies," Ranma stage-whispered conspiratorially, and Toya laughed, "Kiddin'; I'm your sister's date for the evenin'."

Toya raised an eyebrow, but the smile didn't fade. "Oh? Good."

"Hey, big brother, you gonna give your sister a hug? I haven't seen you in two months!" Makoto walked over and gave Toya a fierce squeeze before he could respond, then turned and gave Nabiki the same.

"Make any money on vacation?" Nabiki asked abruptly.

"Oh yeah – Thailand is great for the betting racket." Everyone else in the room seemed to be uncomfortable with the topic of conversation, except for Takahiro, who remained a silent and staring presence on the sofa.

"Oh, hello, Takahiro," Toya bowed coldly, "I did not realize you were coming to dinner." Takahiro stood and bowed, then opened his mouth.

"Uh, we should get going!" Akane said hastily, before hurrying everyone out the door. Ranma heard an audible "click" as Takahiro's mouth clamped shut on his words.

There was a limo waiting in the street. Ranma had never been in one, but he couldn't feel very excited at the moment. Partly because his ex-fiancée's new fiancée was trying to kill him, and he couldn't do anything about it – okay, that was the entire reason. He felt like an actor in some horrible play where all the jokes were at his expense.

Ryouga, Kasumi, Ono and Akari were already in the limo, sitting at one end. "Whoo, Ryouga, you clean up good, man!"

"Hey, Ranma! Good to see you're feeling well enough to make fun of me, asshole!" Ryouga said without heat. Ranma laughed and started to feel a little more comfortable; with Ryouga around, and their old rivalry blossoming into an easy friendship, he felt like he had people on his side. He just wished Akane was. She was clinging to Takahiro's arm like a limpet, so Ranma sat as close to Makoto as possible, putting his arm around her gingerly and feeling like he was in high school again.

They rode to the restaurant amidst scraps of conversation that Ranma didn't pay attention to. Halfway there he removed his arm from Makoto's shoulder on the pretense that he needed to adjust his bowtie and never put it back. She didn't seem to care. She was enthralled listening to her brother's stories about being in America and interning with a business there.

Ranma stared out the window, at Akane's reflection in it. She laughed at something Takahiro said, and he watched her, carefully.

What he saw made his heart thud in his chest.

Her eyes shifted, almost barely, and bored straight into his reflection in the window as Takahiro continued to talk. He watched as she laughed again, but her eyes narrowed a fraction, and there was something in her eyes that was a lie.

Akane was an actress, he remembered suddenly, as though the thought had been background noise until now. And then her eyes moved back to her fiancée, and she smiled so warmly there was no way it wasn't a real smile.

But maybe he didn't need to forget about her just yet.


	24. Chapter 23

Dinner was… awkward. Yes, awkward would be the best way Ranma could describe it.

Firstly, Ryouga and Akari spent the entire time glancing nervously around as though someone was going to kick them out, and with good reason. They were the most casually dressed – Ryouga in a black mandarin-collar shirt that looked like it was straight out of Ranma's high school closet, and Akari in a light blue sundress suited more for the beach than a French restaurant. They looked mismatched and out of place, and the hostess did not seem inclined to let them in at first. Nabiki stared the woman down until she was forced to relent – mostly, it was Akane's clenched and unclenched fists behind Nabiki that did her in.

After that, the staff went bug-eyed and twitchy, and seemed to want to serve them as fast as possible. Kasumi and Ono seemed confused as to why the waiters refused to let them finish speaking before trying to rush off, and Akane was visibly exasperated with the whole thing. Nabiki and Makoto got tipsy off of the House Wine, and all of Chez Blanc, in its tacky velvet crimson and silk white glory, was treated to their drunken renditions of "Love Panic" and other pop songs from the earlier nineties. Toya alternated between trying to get them to shut up, and trying to pry Nabiki's wandering hands off of his butt, which was quite a feat for her considering that he was sitting down.

Ranma, for his part, spent the entire evening pointedly ignoring Takahiro, and regaling the table with tales of his great martial feats – some of them toned down for the other diners in the crowded French-imitation restaurant. Ryouga would chime in every so often, and as the evening wore on, "awkward," though being the only way to describe the whole affair, suited Ranma just fine.

Takahiro looked less-than-pleased as they left the restaurant. Ranma did not have to wonder why; three times, Nabiki accidentally spilled her wine on him, and twice, one of the waiters tripped and dropped a tray on him. Needless to say, his fancy, hideous shimmery suit was ruined, and Ranma had perfected the Saotome Art of Anything Goes Table and Waiter Manipulation – which was a fancy way of saying he bumped the table at key moments and stuck his foot out when a waiter walked by.

All in all, he felt as though a little justice had been done, and his ego was repaired slightly.

And it was made all the more sweet when the entire party had to wait as Akane and Takahiro got into an argument right outside the restaurant. "Oh, jeez, I just wanna get home…" Makoto mumbled, already looking slightly hung over. Everyone but Toya, Ryouga and Ranma got into the waiting limo as it hummed in the street: Toya because he was trying to keep Nabiki from getting back out and yelling at Takahiro for being embarrassing, Ryouga because he couldn't get in with Toya and Nabiki in the way, and Ranma because he wanted to watch.

Ranma remembered his and Akane's arguments, and they were nothing like this. This made them look tame, but neither Akane nor Takahiro was yelling.

No, it was an argument of tightly-spoken words, and small, furious hand-gestures. Takahiro, standing in his ruined suit, a piece of crab-cake sticking out of the pocket, was rudely-waving his hands in Akane's face. Akane was taking small steps back from his furious gaze, glaring at him like she didn't know him. Ranma couldn't hear what they were saying – they were too quiet over the engine of the limo – but he knew these were not hotheaded teenagers arguing about stupid comments like "gorilla" or "uncute" or "pervert." This was a make or break fight.

"Ranma, c'n you pleashe tell m'boyfriend to lemm'out uh th'limo sho I c'n slap Ta… Taka… Buttfashce?" Nabiki slurred.

Ranma would have liked nothing more, but it wasn't his place to let anyone interfere. "I think Akane can take care of herself, Nabs."

"Damn, you're wasted…" Ryouga mumbled sourly – he hadn't touched a drop of alcohol the whole evening, and no one was grumpier than a sober person around someone who was drunk. No one, except Nabiki around sober people when she was drunk.

"Fug tha'd guy," she muttered prosaically.

"Yep, fuggim." Ranma agreed.

"Look, Ranma, if we go, can you get Akane home? I think 'Nabs' needs to go to sleep." Toya placed a hand on Ranma's shoulder, and Ranma looked back at him briefly and nodded.

"Yeah, no problem. She…" Ranma chuckled a little in spite of everything as he peered around Toya's hip to see Nabiki collapse on an already passed-out Makoto, a noise like a buzz-saw coming from her lips, "she passed out, Toya, get her home." Toya looked back at his unconscious girlfriend and rolled his eyes, slipping carefully in behind her. Ryouga put his hand on Ranma's shoulder and narrowed his eyes.

"Ranma, don't ruin her happiness for yours." He said quietly.

"Ryouga, I already told 'er – anything that happens between her an' Buttface ain't got nothin' to do with me an' her." Ranma said with a straight face.

Ryouga smirked. "I'm rooting for you… for once." And then he got in the limo and the door slammed shut.

As it sped off, the noise coming out of Takahiro's mouth started to resemble words.

"… actically all over him!"

"This again?" Akane sounded bored. She rolled her eyes and looked away from him, towards Ranma. Ranma looked her in the eyes, but kept his expression neutral. He was only about ten feet from them, standing at the end of the covered walkway into the restaurant, which had closed twenty minutes ago.

Them being closed didn't stop the staff from glancing, half in interest, half in worry, at the arguing couple.

"What do you mean 'this again?'" Takahiro was hissing.

Akane turned back to look at him, glaring. "Takahiro, you smell like wine, and you're being paranoid," her expression softened, "I thought you trusted me?"

"It's that asshole I don't trust," Takahiro pointed at Ranma, and Ranma narrowed his eyes, but kept his mouth shut. It wasn't his business, it wasn't his business…

"Hey, he's my friend, and he needed my help, Takahiro," Akane's eyes narrowed, "I didn't say anything when Megumi was staying with you."

Takahiro sputtered for a moment. "Th-that was totally different! Megumi and I were never engaged!" His voice was slowly raising, and Ranma could see Takahiro's temper as it spiraled out of control.

A little thing like a ruined six-thousand yen suit got him this worked up?

Akane looked calm by comparison, even though all of her words were spat out like burnt rice. "Excuse me? His dog died, his boss was practically beaten to death as well, and his apartment was ruined – Me-gu-mi," she said the name like it was a curse, "didn't even need to stay with you! She had a boyfriend!"

"Nuh-uh, they broke up!"

"Oh, and why's that, maybe because you screwed her!"

This was not going well for Takahiro. His face turned bright red, his eyes narrowed into slits. Ranma was ten feet away, but he saw the twitch in Takahiro's arm even under the damp suit sleeve, saw the subtle tightening of his fingers as he prepared to slap Akane across the face. Ranma was wearing uncomfortable dress shoes and unfamiliar clothes, but he still moved like a panther.

He needn't have bothered. As Takahiro brought his hand up, Akane reacted with finely-honed reflexes. Takahiro was slightly tipsy, angry, and stupid, and his art was Capoeira, the art of trickery and the feint. Akane was the art of Making Human Pretzels. She reached up and grabbed his hand, holding it as though Takahiro had punched wet cement and then waited a week while it dried.

Takahiro looked quite surprised when his slap didn't connect. Ranma, himself, often underestimated Akane. She had, when they were teenagers, let him do all the fighting. But this was a mistake, obviously, one that Takahiro was sure to regret. Ranma eagerly watched the events unfold, sure that Akane was going to beat Takahiro into something resembling the steak tartar from dinner.

She surprised him.

Akane kept her grip on his hand, staring into his face. "'When anger rises, think of the consequences,'" Ranma was unaware Akane studied Confucius, "a martial artist never strikes out in anger. Hold out your hand." She released his hand and Ranma stopped running about two feet from them, tense and ready for a fight.

He thought it was prudent not to exemplify the irony of her last statement…

Takahiro stepped back, held out his hand, palm up. He stared Akane down firmly. With ease, Akane reached down and slipped off her engagement ring, then put it in his hand, closing the fingers around it. "You just gave up the best thing that ever happened to you." Takahiro said angrily, before storming off, whipping a cell phone out of his pocket. He started barking orders to someone rapid-fire, but Ranma wasn't listening to him.

Standing there, illuminated by the lights from the restaurant, Akane did not look like someone who had just broken up with her fiancée. She looked angry, but radiating from her was a steady thrum of energy held easily in check – she didn't quake, her hands didn't clench, and her stance was relaxed. As if she'd made a decision she was comfortable with.

Ranma took all this in, giving her space, desperate to telegraph what she was going to do, or say. Slowly, she turned to face him, cocking her head to the side. "Are you going to walk me home, or what?" Ranma had to fight to keep a grin from splitting his face. He held out his arm, hesitantly, like she might bite it off. Akane walked over and linked her arm around his.

"It's gonna be a long walk – y'sure you don' wanna take a bus or call a cab? I can pay for it." Ranma said softly as they headed off in the direction of her home.

Akane shook her head, smiling a little sadly. "I need to think. Do you mind?"

"Nope." He smiled down at her, and put his hand over her arm linked through his. She tensed, and he yanked his hand away, and she looked up at him sympathetically, tears in her eyes. "Don' worry about it." He said before she could apologize. "You jus' do yer thinkin', I'll take care of the walkin'." And then he let her go, and knelt and held his hands out behind him.

"Ranma— you're such a nut." She sniffled and took off her strappy shoes before climbing onto his back. Ranma's hands burned as he put them against her long smooth thighs, gripping his waist like pythons. He actually had to pause for a minute. Having her pressed so close against him, her breasts flattened against his back, her legs and arms tangled around him, did things to him that he hadn't felt in a while.

"Um… you good to go?" he asked, his voice cracking a little.

Akane sniffled, and her tears were wet against the back of his neck. "Y-yeah." He started walking, trying not to enjoy the feelings she was stirring in him too much, trying to remember that she just broke up with her fiancée. She was vulnerable, likely to make a stupid decision with him around – he had no illusions about the concept of a "rebound." He did not want that for either of them. But Akane was a smart girl, no matter what he'd said about her in the past.

He just hoped she was smart enough for the both of them.


	25. Chapter 24

The walk home took over an hour. Ranma was in excellent shape, so the first half-hour didn't bother him so much, but the last half of the walk saw Ranma's arms burning and his breathing slightly labored. Akane fell asleep at some point, and he'd had to put her shoes in the pockets of his suit. After a while, he ended up roof-hopping whenever he could, just to let up some of her weight on him when he came down from the building. Jumping up severely taxed his legs, however, and by the time he got to her apartment door, his entire body felt like it was made of wet pasta. Makoto opened the door when he kicked it hard enough, glaring at him for a moment before registering the sleeping body on his back as her roommate.

"I'll just put her on her bed," Ranma rasped out, face grey with fatigue as he stepped inside and Makoto closed the door behind him, "then get outta yer hair." It was almost eleven by the clock on the wall, and Ranma was not looking forward to a forty-six minute train ride, and the walks there and to the Tendou-Tofuus.

"Nonsense, you're taking the sofa," Makoto whispered fiercely, her tone allowing no room for argument as she moved to open the one to Akane's room, "did you seriously carry her all the way here?" she asked incredulously.

"Does it look like it?" she nodded. "Yup."

Makoto looked impressed for a minute before excusing herself to get him some blankets and a pillow.

Ranma walked over and let Akane down gently onto the futon. He had to kneel down on the floor, and standing back up was a chore. He sighed and pulled her shoes out of his pockets, putting them on her desk. He stared down at her sleeping face, swollen slightly from her crying. As she rolled over onto her side, her arm shot out briefly in a clumsy right hook, and Ranma giggling quietly even as he moved desperately out of the way – still a violent sleeper, even as an adult.

He moved to leave the room, but her motion shifted her pillow out from under her head. "Tsking" he knelt down again with a grimace of exhaustion to maneuver her head back on the pillow, but something white underneath it caught his eye.

His tank top.

Smiling warmly, he carefully moved her head back onto her pillow, then pulled the blanket from the edge of the futon over her. Unable to resist, he leaned down and kissed her forehead, and her skin was smooth and slightly sweaty under his lips.

"Having fun?" Makoto whispered from the doorway. Embarrassed, Ranma practically leapt away from Akane like she was a pile of cats.

"Maybe," he grinned when Makoto didn't brain him for "molesting" her roommate. She crooked a finger at him and he obediently left the room, closing the door after one last look at its occupant.

"I called Nabiki's sister, Kasumi, told her where you were," Makoto was saying quietly, tugging at the hem of her Hello-Kitty-patterned pajama dress, "you are a really good person, Ranma, but Akane made it sound like you used to be kind of a jerk."

Ranma winced and flopped down on the sofa, wiggling his toes, relieved to be rid of the dress shoes. They glinted by the doorway, and he focused on them while Makoto talked, unable to really meet her gaze.

"I know that you love her, but I also know that Akane is really… vulnerable right now. Her and Takahiro haven't been getting along, since before you even—"

"They broke up." Ranma worked to keep the smile from his face, failed utterly, and settled for looking away.

"What?" Makoto whispered, sitting down next to him. He looked at her, finally, shrugging, keeping his expression neutral.

"He tried to slap her," she gasped, "an' I was gonna beat the tar outta 'im, but Akane just… stopped his hand, gave him back the ring."

"It was an ugly ring, anyway – who mixes pearls with diamonds?" Makoto said sourly.

Ranma smirked. "Well, I'm glad someone's happy about the break up besides me," he paused, remembering how Akane had cried, "Akane seemed real upset."

Makoto sighed. "This is about her, right now, Ranma, not you." He nodded, looking down at his hands with a frown. "But… give her some time. I was talking to her, and—"

"Ah, ah, ah, I don' wanna know," he held up his hands to stay her confession, and she looked surprised, "I don' need no more reasons to push the issue. I'm jus' gonna do what I been doin' – bein' her friend, an' keepin' outta her way when she don' want me around. I don' wanna be one uh those guys."

"A 'nice guy?'" Makoto asked wryly.

"Yeah, y'know, the guy that's all, 'oh, look how friendly an' nice I am, now fuck me 'cause you owe me.' I lost a girlfriend to one uh those shits," Ranma's expression curdled briefly, "I ain't gonna be like that."

"I don't think you need to worry, Ranma – you're not a nice guy," he looked up at her, glaring, "you're a good person." She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "Too bad Akane got to you first." Makoto winked and got up, heading for her room. Ranma remembered something suddenly.

"Hey, if yer in the market, I got this cop friend. I think he's single." He offered.

"Oh?" she seemed genuinely interested. "That man that came to the door, Kenichi Miike?" She looked thoughtful, then grinned. "Yeah, sure, I'll let you play matchmaker, handsome." She winked again and wiggled her fingers at him before slipping into the darkness of her room.

Ranma smiled, feeling good about himself. He realized, suddenly, that it was the first time he'd felt this good about himself since he'd graduated high school. "Jeez, yer just a bucket a tears, aren't you?" he grumbled, but he was still smiling.


	26. Chapter 25

Akane had a comfortable couch. Ranma was sleeping deeper than he had in a long time. He dreamed of nothing and swam through warm blackness. And then he was awakened, rudely, by someone approaching him. He tumbled onto the floor, years of his father's snoring and his midnight wake-up calls for "training" had honed his awareness until it was sharper than a blade. Crouching like an angry wolf, he tried to regain full consciousness and assess the situation.

Someone stood over him, holding something. It flashed in the early-morning light filtering in through the thick curtains, flashed white and metallic. Ranma rolled into his attacker's legs without a second thought; a sword was nothing to take lightly when he was tired, unarmed, and only in his boxer shorts for "protection."

His attacker shouted in surprise and tumbled to the floor like a stone. Ranma rolled back up to a crouch, ready for the next attack.

It never came. The intruder groaned and the noise sounded distinctly feminine. "Fuck, Ranma, jeez…" Confused, Ranma paused, muscles still tensed to attack. His attacker slowly regained their footing, wincing audibly, and then the scene rearranged itself clearly in the sunlight and Ranma felt like a complete idiot.

Makoto got to her feet, placing the end of her "blade" against the floor and using it for leverage to stand up. The blade was some sort of pole with a hook on the end. "Wha… what the fuck are you doing, Makoto?" Ranma squeaked out, standing slowly from his crouch.

"I was trying to – ow that smarts – I was trying to pull the curtains down, you idiot!" She held up the pole; it was the length of one of her legs, and wasn't even remotely sharp. Glaring at him, she turned and half-limped closer to the couch, reaching up with the pole to the curtain rod and hooking the crooked end of it around the curtain rod. And then she lifted up and around, bringing the curtain rod and curtains down. "They need to get washed, you… you freak." She muttered, glaring at him again.

Ranma flushed. "I'm really, really sorry, Makoto," he bowed jerkily, "are you hurt?"

Her anger seemed to deflate. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," she mumbled something about "martial artists" and "stupid-ass," but not necessarily in that order, and then grabbed the curtain rod and headed back to her room.

Akane snickered from somewhere, and Ranma looked over to see her standing in her doorway. He stuck his tongue out at her and self-consciously put his hands over his crotch. "I thought you'd have gotten over that kind of stuff after not being on the road for a while." She said with humor.

He shrugged. "It never really went away, I guess – Kaibutsu would wake me up a lot, and sometimes pops would screw with me when I went back home in summer." He walked over to the sofa and rearranged the blanket and pillow there so that they were sitting neatly at one end.

"Well, that was a good way to wake up – with you acting like a dork." She stepped out of her room and stretched, her pajama top coming up a little to reveal her taut stomach. Makoto came back out of her room with a laundry hamper.

"Akane, I'm gonna go take the laundry over, and then go get some breakfast with Nabiki and Toya – do you and Ranma want to come?" she asked as she headed for the door, wearing pajama pants under her Hello Kitty nightgown.

Akane smiled at him, and Ranma nodded. "Yeah, sure… but then I better get over to Kasumi's." Akane bit her lip and nodded, then turned and went back into her room, shutting the door.

"Nice, Romeo…" Makoto muttered sarcastically before leaving the apartment. The door shut hard enough behind her to make him jump, and Ranma sighed and rubbed his face with his hands.

Afterwards, he groaned, realizing all he had for clothes was Ono's suit, but if he didn't go out to breakfast, how hurt was Akane going to be. He scrubbed his hair in frustration: things got so complicated sometimes…

Akane came out of her room in a yellow sundress, running a brush rapidly through her hair. She flushed when she saw that Ranma was still in his boxers, staring morosely at Ono's suit, draped over the arm of the couch. "Oh, yeah, all your clothes are at Kasumi's, huh?" Ranma nodded. "Well, that's ok, maybe you can come next time." She said brusquely, moving past him and into the kitchen.

Ranma watched as she moved around, getting things out to make tea. Her movements were sharp and jerky, classic Angry Akane posture. "Hey, what's wrong?" Ranma asked quietly.

"Nothing, nothing," she said quickly, slamming the teapot down on the stove hard enough to make the range rattle, "nothing's wrong."

Ranma raised an eyebrow and, momentarily forgetting his complete lack of pants or a shirt, walked over to the counter and leaned against it. "What is it?" the tile was cool against his forearms.

Akane stood with her back to him, her shoulder blades sticking out from the straps of her sundress as she gripped the edge of the opposite counter. "Did… you make Takahiro angry on purpose?" she asked quietly.

Ranma's breath hitched, but he forced himself to remain calm. "Akane, I…" he trailed off, and she whirled on him, tears in her eyes. "What's with you all uh the sudden – first y'like wakin' up with me in the house, now you hate me?" he glared at her, feeling a little hurt. So he'd teased Takahiro? It wasn't like he'd poisoned him.

Akane seemed to want to stay angry; her mouth worked for words, and her face was red. But then her face crumpled, and the tears spilled out and she turned away again. "I'm sorry – I'm sorry, I'm just… I'm confused and hurt and… and…" she choked out a sob, and Ranma vaulted over the island, ducking his head to avoid the cabinets above it. He gathered her into a hug, careful to keep his boxer-clad lower body away from her as he crooked his chin over her shoulder.

"I'm sorry I got 'im all worked-up," he said softly, his heart breaking as he felt her body quaking with sobs over some murderer, "but I'm really mad at him, too, ya' know. I needed a little payback for…" he trailed off, still unwilling to outright say it. He was terrified she would call him a liar. "You can't have love without trust:" his own words echoed back at him like a curse.

"It's okay, I know you weren't trying to break us up," she whimpered, "you couldn't have done much more damage than he did already himself." She turned in his arms and wrapped her own around his waist for a minute before pulling away and smiled up at him. "I should probably talk to him, huh?"

Ranma winced. "I don't wanna give no opinion on that." He pulled away – her bare arms on his waist made him twitchy in a not-so-appropriate way. "I better get goin'; you gonna be okay? I can come back tonight, if y'wanna talk."

Akane smiled through her still-flowing tears. "That's okay; let me know if you need any help, you know, finding a new apartment or something." He stepped away from her further, backing out of the kitchen slowly. She watched him go, and every part of him screamed to run back to her and wrap her in his arms. Akane was crying, she needed him, Ranma was sure of it.

And then Makoto came back into the apartment, and the moment for action was broken. Ranma grabbed Ono's suit and dressed in the pants and shirt in the bathroom, heart pounding, chest heaving with the effort of not acting on his impulses.


	27. Chapter 26

Footsore and grumpy, Ranma walked through the streets of Nerima towards the Tendou-Tofuus, suit jacket slung over his shoulder. The train had been obscenely crowded with high school students going places to enjoy the last week of summer break. Several of them had recognized him, and one kid, squished as he was against Ranma's side, said he was sorry to hear about Ranma's dog.

Ranma was just glad there weren't any reporters prowling around still.

When he reached Kasumi and Ono's home, the clinic was closed for lunch. Anxious to get out of the borrowed clothes, – especially the shoes – Ranma wandered around to the fence and into the backyard. He paused, hearing voices coming from inside the house, and smiled, relieved that Kasumi and Ono were obviously eating at home for lunch. He could sit at the table and talk about what was going through his head. His mood started to lighten at the lunch that awaited him.

As he hopped onto the deck to enter through the shoji, he found them already partway open. Not thinking anything of it he stepped inside, slipping, thankfully, out of the dress shoes. "Kasumi, I'm… what the fuck are you doin' here?" Ranma had to resist the urge to fall into a ready stance, had to fight years of martial instincts, which was no easy feat.

Sitting at the table, calmly sipping tea from a green porcelain cup, was Ichiro Arai. Next to him was an older, gray-haired man who looked like he might be related to the worm currently drinking tea at Kasumi's table.

Kasumi was standing nervously by the kitchen, a rag clutched in her white-knuckled hands. Ono was sitting at the end of the table, in front of his anxious wife. Ranma heard Kimiko cry from somewhere, saw Ono's eyes narrow behind his glasses. Kasumi moved as if to go to the back of the house, but then seemed to remember something and stopped herself, turning even paler.

When Kasumi and Ono registered that it was Ranma at the door, their heads snapped to look at him, and he tensed at the look in their eyes. Anger? No, not quite… frustration, suspicion. Ranma felt his world tilt a little, but he forced himself to remain calm.

"Mr. Saotome," Ichiro was saying calmly, "this is my father, Yamato Arai of the Sakaume-gumi in Osaka." The older man bowed from his sitting position, his expression stony. Ranma bowed as well, but mostly out of reflex, not respect.

"We have been waiting for you," Yamato said evenly, holding out a hand to encourage Ranma to take a seat; Ranma did so, putting his body between the yakuza and the hallway leading to Kimiko's room. She cried again, and Kasumi made a small noise, "I hope that you understand that my sons mean you no conscious ill-will. They merely want their business contracts honored." Yamato was speaking again, but Ranma refused to look at him. He stared at Kasumi, tried to put as much earnest love in his gaze as possible, as much strength as he could contain within a small, subtle look. Yes, he loved these people like family, and he would protect them with his life.

"I ain't got no contract with nobody." Ranma said, not for the first time wishing he was a more eloquent speaker.

Yamato and Ichiro shared a glance that Ranma caught out of the corner of his eye.

"You misunderstand, Mr. Saotome," Ichiro said calmly, "if the Sakaume-gumi ask you to do something, that is a contract between you and the Sakaume-gumi. You will do as we ask. You will fight in the tournament." It was a threat, a threat without words. A threat on him, on his family.

Not for the first time since that fateful morning, Ranma wished Kaibutsu was still here. He was such a good dog; Ranma was sure he would be careful not to get the little bits of yakuza all over Kasumi's nice floor as he ripped them to itty-bitty pieces.

Ranma clenched his fists on his thighs. "Fine, I'll fight, just leave Kasumi and Ono alone, leave Akane alone, leave everyone I know—"

"No. You do not get to make conditions," Yamato said as though discussing the weather; the speech patterns of him and Ichiro were so similar it was difficult to keep track of where one ended and the other began, "you will fight under our conditions."

Ranma turned his head, slowly, not wanting to tear his gaze away from Kasumi. He allowed a small amount of his anger to funnel through the ki channels in his body. Allowed these men to see his wrath as a quiet, steaming orange flowing out from his body like tiny, licking flames. But he said nothing.

Both men looked at each other again, slightly befuddled at the change of events. "Ranma…" Ono said softly, "you don't have to do this."

"It's just a tournament, Ono," Ranma said quietly, now not removing his gaze from the yakuza, "no biggie." He could kick himself.

If he had just said yes in the first place, none of this would have happened. Kaibutsu would still be alive. He wouldn't have gotten poisoned. Kasumi and Ono wouldn't be crowded in their dining room like frightened rabbits.

"Exactly," Yamato said, appearing conversational, "such a wonderful thing, a good deal between friends." Ranma didn't respond as the two men finished their tea and stood, bowing slightly.

"Ranma, be sure to report to me in three days; here's my card." Ichiro held out the small white rectangle, and Ranma reached up and snatched it out of his hand with the delicacy of hunting hawk snatching a field mouse. He glared up at him, and Ichiro smiled, an oily, hateful thing. Then the yakuza left.

"You didn't have to do that, Ranma," Ono said softly, "they only care about money, not about what happens to us." Kasumi made a keening noise and swept toward the hallway suddenly, Ono hot on her heels. Ranma turned and saw Nabiki come out of the baby's room, holding a now-squalling infant in her arms. On seeing Ranma, she glared and handed Kimiko, carefully, to her concerned parents before stomping over to him.

"You, with me, now." She hissed, her eyes red and slightly swollen, her face twisted with rage. Ranma winced as she grabbed him by the pigtail and half-hauled him to his feet.

"Ow, ow, ow, leggo, jeez!" she dragged him around the wooden screen that separated the dining room from the living room and pushed him onto the sofa. Ranma let out a little "oof," frustrated at having to let Nabiki push him around – at least it would release some of her anger.

"Dammit, Ranma," she said passionately, "what the hell did you do?"

Ranma glared at her. "Hey, this ain't my fault, Nabiki; I'd never do anything to hurt you guys."

Nabiki stared at him like he'd grown a second head. "Ranma, what are you talking about?"

"Well, I didn't mean fer them to get so mad! If I'd uh known they'd be so pissed, I'd've said 'yes' to the stupid fuckin' tourney in the first damn place." He said, keeping his voice as low as he could without whispering so that Kasumi and Ono wouldn't hear him – adding "curses in front of babies" to his list of faults didn't seem like such a great idea.

Nabiki pinched the bridge of her nose for a minute. "Look, I'm kinda hung over and am having trouble following your logic," she paused, still glaring at him, "Ranma, I'm not pissed that you said 'no,' I'm pissed that you said 'yes.'"

"Huh?" Ranma asked stupidly.

Sighing exasperatedly, Nabiki flopped down into the rocking chair across from him. Her face took on a sick expression when the chair rocked, and she steadied it with her feet on the floor and took a few deep breaths. "I'm pissed," she ground out, "that you gave them what they want. They won't stop, now; they'll take and take until you have nothing left." She paused, sighed. "And then they'll start in on your kids."

Ranma frowned. "What the hell else am I s'posed t'do, Nabiki?" he said quietly, thinking of all the people who had been hurt so far, furry or otherwise.

"You're supposed to, y'know, not do business with the yakuza." She said sarcastically. At his desolate look, Nabiki smirked, "Look, just let Nabiki Tendou, businesswoman take care of it, okay? Gimme the number of your friends, Kenichi and Kentaro, and I'll take care of everything."

Ranma reached into his pocket, took out his wallet. He removed Kenichi and Kentaro's cards and handed them to her before putting his wallet away. Nabiki looked from one card to the other as she held them in her hands, and frowned. "Okay, you lay low. Call them in three days and tell them you can't make it."

Ranma balked. "What?" he said, flabbergasted.

Nabiki rolled her eyes and looked at him like he was an idiot – an expression he was used to from her. "Look, Ranma," she said, obviously wanting to call him something else, "these men are not Sakaume-gumi."

"How do you know?" he asked petulantly.

"Because," she began with more patience, "the Sakaume-gumi do not murder people." She placed the cards on the small end table beside her, folding her hands in her lap neatly. "They deal in gambling and the like, they don't extort money from people with violence, nor do to they go after your family like a pack of wolves."

"That's what Kentaro and Kenichi said," Ranma said quietly, "Kentaro said what these guys was doin' made no sense."

Nabiki smiled a wicked, calculating smile. "Exactly, which means they are impersonating the Sakaume-gumi – even the father. It means…" she looked at him expectantly.

"That the Sakaume-gumi probably wouldn't be too happy if they found out." He said quietly, realization dawning.

"Yes, they might decide to make an exception to their conduct code for these men." Nabiki said the word "men" like it was a filthy word.

Ranma felt hope blossom in his chest, but then it faltered. "But, Nabiki, what if the real Sakaume-gumi decide to just roll with it?"

Nabiki snorted. "Please, Ranma, they're businessmen. They aren't going to get their hands dirty like this," she waved a hand in the air emphatically, "I mean, hel-lo, they don't even deal with professional fighting – they're all pachinko." She sighed and leaned back wearily in the rocking chair. "I just have to convince them to listen to a woman."

"I don't think that'll be a problem," Ono said, and both Ranma and Nabiki turned to stare at him – he was still damn sneaky, "I'll help you talk to them, Nabiki." And his voice left no room for argument.


	28. Chapter 27

Ranma waited three days to call Akane. He'd wanted to give her some space, even though he was worried for her safety. He was convinced, however, that the most important thing was to have faith in her, especially her ability to protect herself.

He sat by the phone in Kasumi and Ono's living room, Akane's number, scrawled in his hand on a piece of scratch paper clutched in his hand. Nabiki went to stay with Toya the night he showed back up, so that Ranma could take the guest room. But she had called a few times to give him updates on her conversations with Kenichi and Kentaro. On her first call, he remembered Makoto, told Nabiki, and Nabiki had made an irritated noise. "You're trying to set Makoto up right now!" But then she paused, and grumbled that she'd mention her to Kentaro. After that, she only called to give him details, and to tell him what else he might want to say to the "yakuza" when he called them, her new advice peppered with information from Kentaro and Kenichi.

Ranma smiled a little giddily as he finally got up the courage to reach for the phone. He dialed quickly – despite being worried about the yakuza, or fakeuza, or whatever the hell they were, he was ecstatic to talk to Akane. She was rapidly feeling like his best friend, again, and he saw light at the end of the dark tunnel that had become his life. Again.

The phone rang twice before it was picked up. "Hello, Tendou and Hisamura residence; who is this?" Akane's voice sounded distracted.

"Hey, Akane, it's Ranma," he couldn't keep the smile out of his voice, but he wasn't exactly trying very hard, "how are you?"

"Hey!" she sounded so happy to hear from him that his chest constricted a little, in a good, but tense way that made his head swim. "I'm really… happy you called," she paused, sighed, "Makoto has been gone for hours, hanging out with Toya, and I'm just reading this script and feeling sorry for myself. Bleah."

Ranma chuckled. "Sounds pretty pathetic," he said, and she made a small moue of irritation, "why don't y'just hit somethin'?"

"Tried that; ended up destroying the wooden man in the courtyard." There was satisfaction in that confession, and Ranma smirked.

"Good; y'got me to beat on, anyway," Akane laughed, "I'm more durable."

"That's true, you do have a hard head."

"Aw, yer killin' me…" he winced and leaned back against the sofa, enjoying the sound of her voice. "Have you talked to him?" the question was not one he really wanted to ask, but she probably needed to talk if she had spoken with Takahiro.

Akane sighed heavily, static crackling. "No…" Ranma's heart leapt into his throat excitedly, "he didn't answer his cell phone, and I didn't want to call his house."

Feigning curiosity to cover his disappointment, Ranma asked, "Why not?"

"Oh, well… he has this really creepy kid brother that he lives with." She said softly. "He's a real weirdo – and he always answers the phone."

Ranma laughed. "Akane," he panted between guffaws, "is his name Kyoya?"

"Yeah…" Akane said cautiously.

"That's… that's the little squirt who… who…" he couldn't get the words out – Akane's sixth sense for creeps was accurate, for once.

"Who tried to rob you!" she exploded. Ranma heard something crack, loudly, and wondered if it was her knuckles or someone's neck. Ranma stifled his laughter, as she sounded legitimately angry. "Ranma… what you said about Takahiro when I took you home from the hospital…" she trailed off uncomfortably, her voice quavering.

Ranma felt like smacking himself; they were having a perfectly nice conversation and he had to go and ruin it. He hadn't even insulted her and he somehow had made her upset. "Yeah?"

"Do… do you think he really tried to poison you?" she whispered, tears in her voice.

Ranma wished, more than anything, that he knew what to say to make her feel better, because he knew his answer was only going to make things worse. "Yes. I know he did."

"Why didn't you tell me!" she shouted, and he pulled the phone away from his ear a little.

"'Cause I didn't think you'd believe me, an' I didn't want you ta think I was tryin' to break you two up!" but he was talking to an empty line. He sighed wearily and put the phone back on the hook, tears stinging his eyes.

Honesty was always the best policy, except when he was concerned, apparently.

He stood up after a moment and wandered into the dining room, standing there with his hands in his pockets. Kasumi was breastfeeding Kimiko, and he looked away politely to give her privacy, even though she was wearing a blanket over her shoulders to protect her from prying eyes. He stared out the open shoji instead, momentarily enjoying the cool breeze that blew in even as he stared at Kaibutsu's unmarked grave, even as his emotions whipsawed back and forth between anger and sadness.

"Are you alright, Ranma?" Kasumi asked softly. She hadn't spoken to him much since he'd come back.

"Yeah, just… stuff. You okay?" he'd apologized for the yakuza presence in her home, but she had only smiled and nodded. He had no idea if she was angry with him or what.

"No, I'm scared," she whispered, "but I know you and Ono and Nabiki will protect us." He knew by "us" she meant herself and the child in her arms, and his chest felt tight again, but this time with responsibility. Despite her vulnerable and partially-dressed state, Ranma leaned down and placed his large, rough hand on her shoulder. "I just wish Ono was back from Osaka…" she said softly, "I'm worried about him meeting with those yakuza men." She looked down at her child.

Ono had gone to act as Ranma's representative, after coaching from Nabiki. Everyone but Nabiki and the Miike brothers were concerned for his safety, even after repeated assurance from the former that nothing was going to happen to him.

Assurance was nothing in the face of people like the Arai family.

"We will, with everything we got. Akane, too." He added. Kasumi looked up at him, and smiled warmly despite the tears in her eyes. The phone rang, making them both jump.

"You better get that; Akane must feel bad for hanging up on you." Kasumi said knowingly. Ranma blushed and gave her a pat before walking back into the living room and answering the phone with some hesitation.

"Hello, Tendou-Ono residence—"

"You will make reparations." The voice was like an axe through his face, painfully surprising, but only for an instant. He knew exactly who it was.

"What…" he trailed off, rage making words difficult, "where the fuck did you get this number?" he whispered. He didn't want Kasumi to hear him this time, either, but for different reasons – she didn't need any more reason to be afraid.

"You, Ranma Saotome, will make reparations to Takahiro Arai," Takahiro said as though he wasn't talking about himself, "you will fix what you have broken." His voice was hoarse, almost mad.

"You stay the hell away from her." He said, suddenly realizing exactly how Takahiro had gotten Kasumi and Ono's number. "You stay away from her or I swear I'm gonna—"

"You're gonna what? I hold all the cards, Ranma," there was a pause, Ranma heard shuffling, and then a loud crack, and his heart almost stopped, "you're gonna get fucked," another pause, this one filled with Takahiro's heavy breathing, "meet me in Asukayama Park tonight at eleven." And then the line went dead. Ranma clutched the phone so hard he heard it creak.

When he finally hung up, Ranma sat on the sofa for a while, not thinking or even really breathing very much. He stared at the opposite wall until he heard Kasumi enter the room. "Ranma? What's wrong?" she asked softly. He heard Kimiko's quiet breathing, and forced a smiled on his face before he turned around.

"Nothin', just thinkin'," he kept the smile on his face as he stood up, kissing Kimiko's head cradled in the crook of her mother's elbow, "everything's gonna be okay." Kasumi frowned at him.

"What happened?" he tried to move past her but she stepped into his way; his smile faltered. "Ranma, what happened to Akane…" she whispered.

"Kasumi, I'm going to fix this." He enunciated carefully, placing his hands on her shoulders and moving her gently aside.

"You had better." He had never heard that tone in her voice. "You had better." She repeated, whirling around to face him despite Kimiko's whined protest at being jostled. Her eyebrows were furrowed, and Ranma felt ashamed – Kasumi was an adult, older than him even, he shouldn't just assume she couldn't handle these sorts of things.

"I think Takahiro has Akane."

"What?" she asked quietly, eyes widening as her eyebrows traveled north.

"I think he might've kidnapped her." Ranma said, clenching and unclenching his fists. He should not have waited so long to call her. He should have gone over there, held her, told her how much he loved her and how he was going to fix everything.

"Well, that's just great," Nabiki's chipper voice cut through his self-loathing with the gentleness of a war axe, "we've got him."

Ranma whirled around, fisting his hands in his hair for a moment in disbelief. Was Nabiki insane? "Are you insane!" he shouted, voicing his own thoughts.

Nabiki cocked her head to the side. She was leaning against the open doorway, examining her nails and smirking. "Ranma, how kidnapped could she possibly be? She's Akane."

That brought him up short; he calmed slightly. Right, sure, she had been kidnapped plenty of times, but it was her – too often – underlying sweet, understanding nature that usually caused that, not her inability to protect herself. Ranma had a pretty good feeling that Akane was not going to feel sweet or understanding toward Takahiro at the moment.

Nabiki was smiling smugly. "Here I came over just to tell Kasumi some juicy gossip about Kentaro and Makoto, and now I get this little treat." She sounded so pleased, even Kasumi made a little noise of disapproval. Nabiki looked appropriately abashed. "Sorry, Sis; what I mean is, he has leverage over Akane, otherwise he'd be halfway to Hiroshima courtesy of Air Akane. She's fine." Nabiki waved her hand dismissively.

Ranma was still stewing, but one thing Nabiki wasn't was stupid, so he decided to roll with it. "What should we do?" he asked quietly.

"Call up Ya-ma-to," she said, pronouncing it like the English "tomato" and earning her a small giggle from Kasumi, "tell him how angry you are about kidnapping your lover," Ranma reddened, but Nabiki continued, ignorant of his discomfort, "then tell him you simply won't follow with their plan, and hang up."

"And then?" Ranma asked skeptically – so far it just sounded like they were instigating a family reunion, and Ranma wasn't sure he wanted that.

"Then I call the police, and something very fun will happen!" she clapped her hands together excitedly. "Kentaro has been in touch with the Sakaume-gumi, and Ono's little trip over to Osaka yesterday did wonders for their curiosity. I bet if they get a small… nudge, they might just show up, too."

Ono chose that moment to enter the room, carrying several suitcases. Kasumi gasped and ran over, squishing Kimiko between herself and Ono as she hugged her husband. The baby squealed, and Ono laughed and pulled away, picking her up from Kasumi's arms and tossing her into the air a little.

"Oh! Ono, she just… ate…" Ono stood stock-still, covered in the white cream of baby vomit.

"It's… it's in his mouth…" Nabiki said faintly.


	29. Chapter 28

"I ain't goin' through with this," Ranma growled, watching Nabiki for cues. Kentaro and Kenichi stood behind her, watching. Kentaro was there for cooperation with between the Kita and Nerima police, and Kenichi was still the head of the case, despite his obsession with it. Ranma felt better with them there, for some reason – they were trustworthy.

"Ranma," the voice of Yamato on the other line was stern. On the sofa, Ranma sat next to a large rigged-up to record the conversation. The machine was being run by a competent young man named Ota, who called the machine "Godzilla" and refused to let anyone else touch it. "I'm afraid I am not privy to the situation of which you speak."

"Bullshit," it was easier than he thought to lie; he just used his anger to fuel the lies, and most of them were half-truths anyway, "you guys think you can just push me around? Fuck you! I'm not goin' to no Asukayama Park, an' I ain't fightin' in no tourney!"

"Asukayama Park?" Yamato repeated.

"Yeah, you an' yer fuckin' son ain't gonna push me around! Akane'll turn him into fuckin' bean paste before I even get there, anyway, so ya'll can jus' go…" he paused, searching desperately for the right words.

"Fuck yourselves!" Nabiki mouthed.

"Fuck yourselves!" he hesitated, listening to the sigh at the other end of the line.

"Ranma, I am very disappointed. Many will have to pay dearly for this transgression." And then he hung up.

"Did I do it?" Ranma asked when Ota was busy checking the recording. He gave them a thumb's-up and smiled toothily. "Thank goodness…" he breathed, leaning back.

"Good job, Ranma. Not only did you get 'em worked up, but now they're gonna play along," Kenichi began, walking around Nabiki to pat his shoulder in a fatherly way, "I'm real proud, kid."

Ranma smiled. "Hey, it ain't over yet."

Kentaro nodded gravely. "Yeah, this part's gonna be a lot harder, Ranma," he said quietly, moving over with a small black box, "we're gonna have to wire the hell outta ya'."

"No prob, jus' s'long as I can move my arms." He said cheekily. Ota was busily packing up his machine, and Nabiki followed him out of the room after smiling proudly at Ranma.

Kenichi looked thoughtful as he watched Ranma pull his shirt off and Kentaro start to hook the wire onto his muscled chest. "Ranma, you said Akane wouldn't hurt Takahiro if he had leverage, right?" he said after a moment.

Ranma looked up from Kentaro's icy cold hands with a small grimace – the guy felt like a snowman. "Yeah, why?"

"Well, if you're here, and so is Kasumi, Nabiki…" he trailed off, "what does he have for leverage?"

Ranma thought, frowning. Nabiki came back into the room and they looked at each other for a moment.

Something clicked in his memory.

Makoto, out with her brother…

"Makoto." Nabiki and Ranma said in unison, and Nabiki's face paled. Her knees weakened visibly and she collapsed into the rocking chair. Kenichi looked back and forth between them, and Kentaro paused momentarily to glance at them as well.

"Makato?" Kentaro squeaked. He pressed the tape he was using to keep the wire against Ranma's chest down hard enough to make Ranma gasp. "Sorry – what- what did you say about Makoto?"

"We… we think she might be the leverage…" Ranma said, looking at Nabiki again for her nodded confirmation. She looked numb.

"No way, how would he… why…" Kentaro stood up, angrily looking at his clenched fists, "I just fuckin' met 'er…"

"Stop talking like that," Nabiki said sharply, coming back to herself with a little roll of her shoulders, "I'll call Toya, find out what's going on." She stood up and left the room, pulling her cell phone out of her pocket. After a moment of tense silence, Kentaro went back to situating Ranma with the wire.

He was explaining, in a quavering voice, the best way to speak into it and not have anyone notice you were wearing it when Nabiki came back in. Her face was paler than before, and she looked like she was going to cry.

"His roommate answered his cell phone… he… he thought Toya was with me, until he heard the phone ring on Toya's desk…" she paused, taking a deep shuddering breath, looking at Ranma, "Ranma, he isn't a fighter, Toya… Toya isn't a fighter, he just… he swims, he's a swimmer." She was wringing her hands.

Ranma walked over and put his hands on her shoulders, conscious enough of his open shirt to keep his distance from her. He could see the whites of her eyes too clearly. "Nabiki, it's gonna to be okay," he paused deliberately, "at least they can't drown 'im." She looked at him in confusion. "'Cause he's such a good swimmer." He smiled weakly, despite the sick feeling rising up into his throat and burning acridly at the back of his mouth.

Nabiki stared at him like he was mad, but Kenichi's loud guffaw broke the awkward silence. "Fuckin' hell, Ranma," he said between laughs, "you are the least appropriate person I know."


	30. Chapter 29

The park had only a few lights on this close to midnight. Takahiro had not been specific as to where to meet him, and the sway of the cherry trees in the night breeze cast confusing shadows around. The park was huge, and Ranma had only passed by it on his way out of the train station five minutes away.

He'd taken that train here tonight from Nerima. He could almost hear the officers from Kita, assembled by Kentaro. After his promotion earlier that week, he was quick to get a team ready to work under him. They were in the empty park now, moving almost silently through the cherry trees, currently not in bloom, their green leaves black in the evening.

The men and women of Kentaro's team were fanned out on either side of him, as he walked down one of the central paths in the mountain park. Ranma's nerves were already frayed, and the thought of not being able to find Akane before… something happened made him want to vomit. He tried not to be frantic in his search, tried to be methodical. He paused at the entrance to a children's playground. He studied the cone-shaped jungle gym, the fake boat buried in the sand, the small locomotive that children could ride with their parents around the park.

He froze. There was one light on in the playground, right by the train, as if to make sure he saw. Tied up, gagged and blindfolded against a wooden pillar that held up the slatted roof that sat above the train was Makoto, and next to her was Akane. She wasn't tied up to a pillar, but her hands were bound and she was blindfolded and gagged. She kneeled on the sand, in a tank top and shorts that were not adequate for the chilly evening – as if to punctuate this, a cool breeze blew, and Ranma unconsciously shivered. Takahiro was in front of her, but from the angle Ranma could easily see her face and his in the light. She wasn't crying, but she wasn't screaming or shouting around her gag either. Akane hardly even seemed to be breathing.

Probably because Takahiro was creepily stroking her hair, occasionally gripping his hands into it. Ranma heard the slight crackle of one of the officers stepping on a twig in the cherry trees behind him, and he took that opportunity to move forward and confront Takahiro, before something worse happened to Akane or her roommate.

Glancing around quickly for the other members of the Arai family, Ranma started to walk. He saw a body lying in the sand by the little boat as he approached the scene in front of him, and knew before he could even see the man's face that it was Toya. He was hogtied, head turned to the side, hair matted with blood. Ranma prayed silently that he was alive.

"Takahiro." The kidnapper didn't turn around, insultingly keeping his back to Ranma as he continued to stroke Akane's hair. She twisted away from his hand and her face turned in the direction of Ranma's voice. Ranma put his hand out, palm down, trying to calm her, and then remembered she couldn't see him, and put his hand limply and uselessly by his side.

He had to get Takahiro talking. Had to distract him.

Takahiro finally turned, and Ranma saw what was in his other hand. A gun, of course a gun, what else would he threaten Ranma's violent tomboy of an ex-fiancée with besides a damn hand cannon?

"Ranma Saotome," Takahiro said flatly, "welcome. You're going to die." The arm with the gun raised.

"Really?" Ranma said quietly. Akane looked like she was going to leap to her feet and spear tackle Takahiro, he saw her legs tense; Ranma willed her to be still. "Whyzzat?" he asked lazily.

"Because you've insulted my family." Takahiro's voice quavered, just a little, and Ranma smirked.

"You mean I insulted you," Ranma said mockingly; Takahiro wasn't going to shoot him, not yet, he wanted revenge, not just Ranma's death, "c'mon Takahiro. Yer pissed 'cause yer girlfriend wants me an' not you," he let the smirk widen into a smile, "I'm her cute ex-fiancée."

Takahiro's face twisted into an ugly snarl. He reached behind and fisted his hand in Akane's hair. To her credit, she didn't make a sound, even when he hauled her to her feet by said hair. Ranma winced; he wanted to rush over and shove Takahiro's face into the sand until he was buried in it. But he couldn't act. He had to wait, the police had said, until the Arai family arrived on the scene. He had to wait.

It wasn't easy. Akane let out a small sound, muffled around the gag, when Takahiro let her hair go. He flattened his hand against her head and stroked down all the way to her shoulder, keeping the gun trained on Ranma with a rock-steady hand, not looking at his captive. Makoto made no noise, appearing unconscious. Ranma glanced at Toya again – he hadn't moved.

"Yes, you insult me even now," Takahiro grated out, "thinking you can even fucking speak to me." He used his hand to rip his dress shirt open. On his chest coiled a massive tattoo of a red dragon, the tail disappearing around his back. "But I am Sakaume-gumi, and you are nothing but trash."

Ranma tried to look as unimpressed as possible. However, before he could respond to the insult, a thought struck him. He smirked. "Oh, really? Where are the rest of yer boys then, Takahiro? You obviously didn't pull this all off on yer own…" he trailed off tauntingly.

The insult was plain as day. Takahiro snapped his fingers sharply, still keeping the gun pointed at Ranma's face. Akane winced – his fingers were right next to her ear.

From behind the jungle gym stepped Kyoya, wearing a suit that actually fit him. Someone had been stupid enough to give the kid a katana. Ranma tried to bite back a bark of laughter, even has his intestines turned into water. A gun and a blade, two things an unarmed martial artist did not want to deal with. "I helped him." Kyoya said evenly; he had a bandage over the hand that didn't hold the katana, and Ranma noted that his index finger looked a little shorter than usual.

Takahiro's eyes seemed wild. "See, the Sakaume-gumi are at my beck and call." He hissed.

"Brother." Takahiro started. Ichiro came up from the opposite end of the playground, an expression of distaste as he walked his expensive-looking shoes through the sand. "Father would like you to stop with this foolishness and come home. There are things we need to discuss." His voice was slick and sharp. Takahiro watched his brother approach.

There was a signal Ranma was supposed to wait for. In the event that Yamato himself did not make an appearance, Ranma was to wait for this signal and then spring into some semblance of action – he was supposed to run away, but even when Kentaro was saying it, the look on his face betrayed that he knew Ranma wasn't going to do any such thing.

Takahiro and Ichiro fell into a terse argument whilst he watched. Akane switched from foot to foot. Her head was no longer turned in Ranma's direction, but he could see that she was listening for cues from him. His arm muscles felt cramped, too tight under his skin, and his breath had gone ragged – he was afraid, he realized as he watched Takahiro wave his gun around. He was afraid for Akane, and maybe, a tiny part of him squeaked, for himself.

Kyoya looked more nervous than someone carrying a deadly weapon should. He was twitching a little, and kept glancing back between his arguing brothers and his and Takahiro's captives.

A bird called. A small, soft night sound. At first Ranma didn't register the noise. But then he remembered the signal, and his body reacted. His eyes assessed the situation, possible outcomes of every potential action whirling through his brain even as he sprang into action.

Just as Takahiro pointed with the gun behind Ichiro, telling his brother to go back the way he'd come, eyes narrowed in rage, Ranma moved across the playground with the speed of a charging bear. Time shifted in his eyes, his senses, heightened by adrenaline and fear for his and his friends' safety, tuning in with something and making the world, for this important moment, seem to move at a slower pace.

Kyoya saw him move, came sweeping at Ranma with surprising accuracy, causing Ranma to re-evaluate the boy's skill with the ancient weapon. Instead of facing Kyoya head-on, Ranma took a risk. He kept moving, but as the sword came down to slice through his chest, Ranma tucked his legs up to his chest and fell like a stone. Pivoting his hips slightly up as he fell, he made sure that his momentum carried him across the shifting sand.

Right into Takahiro's legs. The gangster squeezed the trigger as a reflex, and the night erupted with lights and sound as the force of the Kita Police Department came out of the trees like avenging demons made of body armor and terror. Ranma knew they would take care of Kyoya at his back – had to have faith, at least, that Kyoya would be distracted enough by the flashlights and guns to not do anything else, anything stupider than attacking Ranma Saotome. Such as stabbing one of his friends.

Takahiro, true to his Capoeira training, fell and rolled onto his feet in a quick, catlike motion. His body was trained to deal with being thrown about, as the movements of Capoeira demanded, and he didn't even seem fazed by Ranma's collision with his legs.

His gun was suspiciously absent, however.

Ranma rocketed out from his crouched position, keeping low to the ground so that Takahiro couldn't use any good kicks on him, or a leg sweep. The Kita officers were running across the park now, heading straight for them. But they didn't have the area surrounded.

And they didn't know where the gun was. Ranma, as he twisted to come up on his hands and do a pair of front ball kicks to Takahiro's face, saw Ichiro pick up the gun. He aimed it casually at Akane's head, like he was preparing to water his roses with lead.

"DUCK!" Ranma screamed as loud as he could, feeling his feet connect, feeling slower than molasses despite the energy coursing through him like mad wasps. He kicked out once more before Takahiro could recover, wrenching his body around and driving a hammer fist into Takahiro's temple.

As he whipped his head back around, he realized just how much Akane's training must have improved her reaction time and senses. Her blindfolded head tucked to her chest and she let out a loud shout behind her gag, barreling right into Ichiro's stomach and eliciting a loud "oof" from him. The gun went off, but Akane's shoulder came up, bumping his hand out of position so that the shot went wild – she must have remembered Makoto behind her.

The bullet imbedded itself in the roof of the train house. Akane kept moving, dropping to the ground and sweeping out with her legs, taking Ichiro down. Then she rolled and used the force behind that roll to drive a knee into his throat that might have, might have, been meant for his chest.

The satisfied look on her blinded, muted face said otherwise.

It all happened so quickly, that Ranma stumbled when he realized Akane was safe, time speeding back up to normal. He skidded to a stop in front of her as she stood up from her crouch and her groaning victim. Ranma suddenly remembered Kyoya, and turned worriedly around to face the potential threat.

He was already on his knees, one hand being cuffed behind his back, sword laying abandoned, gleaming in the sand. Ranma looked around at the officers who had finally reached them, smiling happily, almost laughing with glee and relief. He was shoved politely aside as someone moved to arrest Ichiro properly.

"Mmph mm mnmn!" Akane mumbled behind her gag. Ranma started and pulled her gently over to stand near Makoto. He shucked off her blindfold, a suit tie, he realized, and she blinked rapidly in the bright flash lights. "Mmph!" she mumbled again.

"Naw, I think I like ya' better gagged— oof, ok, ok…" he wheezed as she pulled her knee away from his side, laughing a little. He wanted to cry and hug her at the same time, so he settled for untying her gag and her hands with his own shaking so bad he thought they might spontaneously fall apart.

"I said, nice work Ranma," she said softly, looking at him as he righted himself from untying her, rubbing her red wrists, "you always save me."

He smiled at her. "Naw, I don' think ya' really needed that much savin'," he jutted his thumb at Makoto before setting about undoing her blindfold and gag, "her on the other hand."

"Hey," Makoto mumbled dryly, looking dazedly at him, "I'm no damsel…" her words sounded slurred, and Ranma inspected her eyes, holding her head while Akane undid the silk rope binding her wrists.

"You might be drugged…" he muttered, patting her cheek a little. She giggled, eyes rolling back in her head, and Ranma smelled alcohol and something sour on her breath. "Ew…"

"Toya!" Akane's shout brought Ranma to attention, and he settled Makoto carefully on the ground.

"Hey…" she mumbled again. Ranma stopped halfway to Toya's body, Akane reaching him as he turned around to look at Makoto. But Kentaro was already there in all his gear and glory, pulling her against his chest tenderly, shushing her. She giggled and grabbed the back of his helmet, kissing him sloppily, earning her a surprised, if muffled, yelp. She pulled away with a pop. "My savior!" she cried lazily.

Ranma laughed, then remembered the unconscious Toya. He turned and saw Akane had untied him and carefully rolled him over. She was administering CPR.

"Akane… Akane…" Ranma said quietly, his voice quavering. He watched her as she counted her compressions, then breathed into Toya's open mouth, tears leaking down her face. "He ain't breathin'?"

"I think he has, one… two… sand… four… in his… five… mouth!" she took in a deep breath and breathed into his open mouth again, then squealed when he coughed into her face.

"Nabiki…" he mumbled in a distinctly Makoto-like fashion. Ranma rolled his eyes.

"Either they're drunk or drugged," Ranma said at Akane's confused look, "c'mon, we gotta get a paramedic on these two."

"I'll take care of it, get your girlfriend outta here, kid." Ranma looked up at the officer who had addressed him and nodded.

"Uh, yeah," he said quietly, not denying anything as he put his arm around Akane's shoulders.

They started out of the park, amidst a swarm of police and medical technicians. Akane was leaning against him heavily, but he was leaning on her quite a bit, too. The adrenaline rush had left him feeling drained. He turned his head slightly to smell her air, frowning as he caught faint traces of Takahiro's cologne.

"I need a shower…" Akane whispered as they reached the street. Ranma looked around, suddenly realizing they had no way home; there wasn't a bus that was running this late past the park.

"Hey, Ranma, over here!" Ranma whipped his head around, saw a vaguely familiar shape under a nearby streetlamp and smiled. Kenichi stood leaning against a Nerima patrol car. As Ranma approached him, he sucked one last time on the cigarette he was smoking and then put it out against the bottom of his shoe, flicking the butt into a nearby trashcan.

"Hey, Kenichi, this is Akane Tendou. The uh… 'kidnap victim.'" Akane rolled her eyes at him, and smiled, if a little shakily.

Akane bowed to Kenichi, but took her time straightening back up, wincing and rubbing her back. "He had me kneeling in the sand for a while…" she muttered apologetically.

"Jeez, get in the car," Kenichi sounded exasperated, but his chubby face held genuine concern as he helped Akane into the front seat; then he turned his expression on Ranma, "good job."

Ranma smirked. "Thanks."

"I heard the whole thing, on the radio," Kenichi's expression was serious, "Kentaro told me what you did, told me to wait for you."

Ranma walked over and hugged him. Kenichi stiffened in surprise, and then returned the embrace. Akane giggled from inside the car, despite her ordeal, and the two men pulled back embarrassedly. Kenichi coughed, rubbing the back of his head, tears in his eyes. "Ranma…" he trailed off uncomfortably.

"Aw, c'mon old man," Ranma said jovially, punching Kenichi in the arm lightly, "y'can call me anytime." He smiled cockily. "I know how much you love me."

Kenichi stared at him for a moment, and then burst out laughing. "Get the hell in that car, kid, before I punch yer lights out."

"As if you could," Ranma retorted, but he got in the car next to Akane.

"I'm gonna punch your lights out in a second," Ranma looked at her quickly, and she smirked, "if you don't shut the hell up – I've got a headache."

Ranma looked her over for the first time in the dimness of the lights in the back of the patrol car. Kenichi left them on, along with the siren, as he took directions from Akane to her apartment.

Her face had a large bruise on the left side, like she'd fallen on her face into someone's fist a few times. Her lip was split as well, and the wound was just starting to turn black. He poked and prodded at her worriedly, and she winced and tried to push his hands away. "Y'need a doctor, too." He said logically.

"No I don't – he can't even hit that hard." Ranma's arms went rigid at the thought of Takahiro's fists connecting with her face. Over and over, to create that bruise. Akane looked at him, wide-eyed. "Ranma, you're hurting my shoulders…" she squeaked. Ranma let her go as though he'd touched a wet cat.

"Gah, sorry… I jus'… wish I'd called y'sooner, or come over, or…" he trailed off when she put a hand over his mouth.

"Shut up and give me a hug, Ranma." He smiled and obliged, hugging her in the backseat of the patrol car as Kenichi smiled at them knowingly in the rearview mirror.


	31. Chapter 30

When he pulled up in front of Akane's apartment, Kenichi left the engine idling. "You don' wanna come in, for some tea or somethin'?" Ranma asked. Kenichi just rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, at midnight? No thanks, kid," he paused, looking at the wheel, "I think I'm gonna go get some sleep, then I'm gonna get up and call my ex wife." And with that he drove off.

Ranma and Akane stood outside for a minute, watching the lights of his car disappear. Akane reached down and took his hand, tugging on it. "Ranma, I really, really want to shower." She said urgently.

"Oh, uh, yeah… I guess I should get a cab…"

Akane smiled softly. "Dummy; you can sleep here," she laughed at his happy expression, "you just saved me from my crazy ex, I think you can have the couch, at least."

"Hey, you did some savin', too." He reminded her. As they walked inside the building and down the foyer to her apartment, Ranma snapped his fingers as a thought occurred to him. "You gave me CPR when I was poisoned, huh?"

Akane looked back at him as she unlocked her door with a key from under their little welcome mat – Takahiro had probably divested her of her keys when he took her. "Yeah." She was blushing a little as she swung the door open and looked inside.

Ranma moved her gently aside and went in first, flicking on the light. The room didn't look so bad – the curtains were slightly askew, and a few of the couch cushions were on the floor, but other than that, no evidence of a struggle. Ranma walked over and situated all that was out of place, then flopped down on the sofa with a sigh, only just remembering, embarrassedly, to kick off his shoes.

After a moment of hesitation, Akane walked inside and shut the door behind her, locking it with an audible click. Glancing around, her eyes fell on something on the wall, and her expression hardened. Ranma followed her gaze to the three pictures of Takahiro. She walked over purposefully, picked them up one by one, tucking them under her arm, and then walked out of the apartment. Getting up, Ranma followed her. She went out the door, across the foyer, and to a garbage chute in the wall. Then she smashed each picture on the edge of the chute, the glass and chips of wood spraying into the black abyss.

As she destroyed the physical evidence of Takahiro's presence in her life, she finally broke down and cried about her ordeal. Ranma realized that, not since Saffron, had he been worried for her life. She probably felt the same. He didn't touch her, though, just let her take out her rage and feelings of betrayal on the pictures, ripping them up when she'd gotten through the shards of glass. When they had been properly destroyed, she shut the cute with a bang and then stood there, chest heaving, sobbing sporadically.

And Ranma knew, then, that through those four years of separation, Akane had been feeling the same way he had. Maybe, when she met Takahiro, she thought things had turned around. She thought, maybe, that her life would have love in it again. She might have had her sisters and father, but it was obvious how distant she was from all of them. Isolated from them and their hatred of her boyfriend, Akane had been adrift, just like him. A sudden surge of self-loathing swelled and passed – this shared experience didn't merit Ranma getting angry at himself.

Ranma had suffered. Akane had suffered. And they did it to themselves.

"Akane," Ranma said quietly, but it wasn't the start of anything vocal. He reached out and gathered her into his arms, and she wrapped hers around his waist, pressing her face against his chest. They hugged for long enough for Akane to start shivering in the chill of the open foyer. Ranma lead her over to the open door of her apartment and brought her inside, pulling the door closed after him.

Akane looked up at him for a moment, and then walked into the bathroom, leaving the door open. "I don't want to be alone, okay?" she said softly. Ranma stared at her and nodded, before catching himself and turning away, to stare at the kitchen.

He was just a friend. Just a friend.

The shower started after a few moments of rustling clothes, during which Ranma tried to think about anything but Akane naked just a few feet behind him. He clenched his fists by his sides, ran through kata in his head, imagining his body going through the movements. But they were quickly, almost easily, replaced with images of Akane doing the same.

Just, completely nude.

"Shit…" Ranma muttered, feeling his face heat all over again. The new pants Kasumi had bought him the other day suddenly felt small, and Ranma tried to think about unsexy things, like Cologne, or Happousai.

Anything but the beautiful girl just behind him. He was rapidly becoming a 'nice guy,' and he didn't want to go there. Ranma legitimately just wanted to be her friend, until she was really ready to take it further. Not until she was vulnerable, not until she was confused or drunk or unhappy enough to settle for him. No, he wanted her to choose him because she had made the decision. He wanted her to decide, and get that look, that stance that she had when she broke up with Takahiro in front of Chez Blanc, something that seemed a million years away.

The shower cut off and Ranma fidgeted. He heard the whisper of a towel against skin, Akane sniffling. A hand on his shoulder made him jump a little. "I'm gonna go change… wait outside my door?" He nodded, not looking at her. She moved away, there was the sound of a door opening and closing, and he let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

Obediently, Ranma moved over and sat down on the sofa, watching her door. Makoto still wasn't home, yet, but maybe she was in the hospital. He frowned at that; hopefully Toya and her were alright.

"Hey, Akane?" he called through the door.

"Yeah?" the sound of her voice was dampened by the door between them.

"Y'think I should call the hospital, make sure Makoto an' Toya are alright?"

There was a pause. "I can't believe I forgot!" her shout was followed by several stumbling sounds and then she burst out of the door. "Oh my god, I can't believe this…" Akane ground out as she ran into the kitchen to the phone on the wall. She was dressed in a pair of gi pants and a red tank top. She stretched, arching her back as she dialed the phone and put it to her ear. Ranma was fascinated by the three-inch section of skin revealed as her tank top rode up. "Hello, yes, um… This is Akane Tendou. I'm calling about two people who might have been admitted this evening…" Ranma was only half-listening to her conversation with the hospital. The other half of him was listening to the blood rushing through his ears.

"Okay, yes, yes thank you so much." Akane was smiling now, hanging up the phone, and Ranma tore his eyes away from her, not willing to be caught ogling her. "They're alright," she was actually giggling a little, "they're going to keep them overnight to make sure whatever is in their system is out, but other than a few bruises they're fine." She sat down next to him on the sofa and sighed, sounding relieved.

"I'm tired." She said after a long pause. Ranma looked over at her and smiled warmly.

"Y'been through a lot tonight," she stood and stretched again, sensually, grunting quietly in the back of her throat, "you should get to bed."

Akane turned and looked at him out of the corner of her eye, facing her door. She looked down at her hands, twisting through the ties of her gi pants. "I'm… weirded out… sleeping alone…" she trailed off and blushed.

Ranma cleared his throat before he spoke, because if he didn't he knew his voice would croak. "Um, yeah, well, I can always sleep with you," he bit his lip at how that sounded, "like, maybe I can move Makoto's futon in there, um, an', y'know, sleep on that." He finished breathlessly.

"My futon's big enough." She said without looking at him. Ranma registered her words in pieces, because his brain was rapidly trying to derail.

"Uh, okay, lemme just… get a quick shower." He said awkwardly, standing up on legs that suddenly seemed very weak. Akane nodded and moved into her room, turning on the light and getting her futon arranged.

He breathed out, heavily, and moved into the bathroom, shutting the door.

"Okay," he whispered to himself, "calm down." He turned on the shower, not bothering with the hot water. "You're just gonna sleep," he stripped and stepped into the cold spray, gritting his teeth against the icy pangs of his body adjusting to the temperature, "you're just gonna sleep." He soaped up on principle – he wasn't going to sleep next to Akane for the first time in… well, ever, smelling like he'd just run a marathon.

After he was done, he dried off with the other towel and then realized, belatedly, he had no clean clothes. "Please, please don't let her think I did this on purpose…" he whispered, wrapping the towel around his waist.

He took small steps over to Akane's room, willing the towel to stay up, relieved that, at least, he didn't have an embarrassing bulge. "Uh, Akane…" she was lying in her futon, no blankets on her, just staring at the ceiling. When she saw him in the towel, her eyes widened a little and she sat up on her elbows. "Ain't got no clean clothes…" he muttered, gripping the towel.

"Oh! Uh… hold on." She went over to her dresser and dug around, coming out with a pair of what looked like men's boxers. Ranma scowled at them.

"Okay, I'd rather sleep naked in a snowstorm than wear Takahiro's jockeys."

Akane burst out laughing, and Ranma's scowl deepened. "Ranma, they're mine!" she finally got out. He raised an eyebrow and she rolled her eyes at him. "I wear them to sleep sometimes, silly." She held them out.

"Oh…" he took the boxers; they were yellow, and patterned with orange slices and green apples. Not exactly his taste. "I'll be right back." He started to leave the room, but Akane simply turned around.

"Go ahead, I won't peek." She said quickly.

Ranma took stock of this, and then shrugged and shucked off the towel, laying it on top of hers over the back of her wooden desk chair. He slipped into the boxers, relieved to see they had a false opening in the front, not so relieved to note that they were a little tight on his hips, and clearly outlined his secondary sex characteristics.

"You done?" Akane asked archly.

"Uh, yeah." He tried to place his hands as casually over the bulge in the shorts as he could as Akane turned around. She smiled, and then turned around again and crawled into the futon. She held up the blanket for him, and he flicked off the light next to him and paused, letting his eyes adjust to the dimness before he moved over and got inside the blankets.

"Why are you so cold!" Akane gasped out as he slid into the blankets, brushing his feet against her legs.

"Uh, I dunno." Ranma responded quickly. "Shower was, kinda cold, maybe." He finished lamely. Akane chuckled and shifted around in the dark next to him.

"Thanks for staying." She said softly.

"Hey, anytime sissy— ow!" he smiled and rubbed his shoulder where she'd punched him.

They lay quietly side by side for a time, Ranma doing everything in his power to keep his body away from hers. He could feel the heat from her seeping across the futon, hear her quiet breathing. His heart was jumping in his chest like a jackrabbit, and he squinted his eyes shut as if to block out the images of what he'd rather be doing other than sleeping.

It wasn't working.

Sitting up, Ranma brought his knees to his chest. He felt so antsy he wanted to jump out of his skin. "Ranma, what's wrong?" Akane whispered, even though they were alone in the apartment.

"Nothin', just um, thinkin'. I ain't goin' nowhere, go to sleep." It came out sharper than he'd intended. He heard her breath catch a little, and then she spoke in a low, almost angry voice.

"So was I wrong? Do you just hate being close to me?"

Ranma felt the sudden urge to shake some sense into her, but quickly squashed it. "No, I like bein' close to you." A little too much, he decided not to add.

"Oh," he almost heard her anger deflate, "then what is it? Are you worried about Yamato?"

He'd told her about Yamato and the tournaments on the ride home to her apartment, and now he was glad he had. It was a good excuse. "Yeah." He said firmly. "Very."

Akane sat up and he felt her reach around him. There was a soft "click" and then a light momentarily blinded him from her desk. He turned, blinking his eyes rapidly, and looked at her.

She was scowling. "Liar."

"It's true!" he tried to feign innocence, but it had never worked with her even when he was telling the truth.

"Why are you lying? I thought… I thought we were friends." Akane looked away, and then she stood up, stomping off of the futon and narrowly missing his toes as she left the room.

"Where're y'goin'?" he asked, his voice almost a whine as he got up to follow her. She had dislodged her pillow as she stood up, and he caught the barest glimpse of his tank top, and something surged in him.

"I'm, just… I'm really confused, Ranma," she was storming around her living room, her breaths coming out in heaving gasps as she visibly fought back tears, "you were always so confusing!" she shouted at him.

Ranma looked away from her and shut his eyes. "I jus'… I wanna be yer friend. I don' want you to think I'm tryin' t'be somethin' you don't want, Akane." Clenching and unclenching his fists by his sides, Ranma took a deep breath, let it out slowly, surprised when his voice didn't shake. "Yer pretty confusin', too, ya' know."

"I know." She said quietly. Ranma looked up at her as she walked into the kitchen, switching on the light and casting the apartment into a soft blue glow. She got a glass of water and drank deeply, gasping when she stopped, setting the glass down on the counter. "I know I am."

Ranma spun around and flopped angrily down on the sofa. "I don' wanna think that ya' owe me, y'know?" he was being vague, he knew, but he didn't know another way to discuss them at the moment. "Just 'cause we was engaged, don't mean we gotta be…" he trailed off with a sigh.

Akane walked over to the sofa and knelt down in front of him, taking his hands into hers and looking up into his face. He remembered the sight of her kneeling in front of Takahiro, looked at the bruise on her face, the split in her lip. Gripping her hands tightly, he wondered what he had done to her in the time between the kidnapping and her rescue.

"Ranma, I know that… what happened was both our faults," she was referring to him getting kicked out of the Tendous, he realized, "but Daddy didn't have to act that way, either." Why was she talking about this all of the sudden? Wasn't it behind them?

She looked at his hands, brushing her fingers across his knuckles. "When he refused to renew the engagement, I was so angry at him," she whispered, "I've barely talked to him since, you know. I don't even know if he knows you're… back in my life."

"Whoa, really?" he asked, surprised. Ranma had always thought she had a good relationship with her father.

"Yeah," she smiled a little sheepishly, wincing when her lip split open a little. She sucked on the wound a bit before speaking again. "he'll find out sooner or later, though. I told him Takahiro and I broke up, at least. He was pretty mad."

"Why?" Ranma asked, feeling a little put-upon. He had approved of that scumbag, but not Ranma?

"'Cause he was rich, and Daddy wanted me to be well-taken-care-of." She said simply.

"Pfft, you can take care of yerself, I think." Ranma retorted, rolling his eyes. She smiled softly at him, and he found that he was relishing the feeling of her small, calloused hands on his.

"Yeah, well, I let him make a lot of my decisions for me," she said quietly, "but since you came back, it's been different." Akane slowly rose to her feet, sliding her knees, first one, then the other, onto either side of him on the sofa. Ranma gulped, almost audibly, and leaned back as she straddled him on the couch, letting go of his hands to put hers on his naked chest.

Akane's breath was hot on his face, and despite her cuts and bruises, she was still impossibly beautiful. He fisted his hands against the sofa cushions as her strong legs flexed against his thighs, making all of the hairs on his legs stand on end. "Since you came back, I want to make my own decisions, for myself. My last rebellion was going away to college. I want to rebel again." She whispered. And then she kissed him.

It was soft, because her lip was injured, but it was enough to make Ranma groan slightly against her closed mouth. He lost himself momentarily when she put her tongue in his mouth and moved against him, rubbing her chest against his and gripping his shoulders, keeping the juncture of her legs off of his crotch. Ranma gripped the sofa cushions and ripped his mouth away from hers as gently but firmly as he could.

"What's wrong?" Akane asked breathlessly, managing to convey hurt despite the fact that she was having trouble breathing.

"I can't do this," he said, wanting to say three very different words. Carefully, he put his hands on her waist, not looking at her lest he lose his nerve, and tried to move her off of him.

"Wait, no, I'm sorry, talk to me." Akane whispered quickly, hugging him. Ranma grit his teeth when her breasts flattened against his chest. It had been way too long since he'd been this close to a woman, especially this one. "What'd I do?" she asked.

It was so unlike her, to not be angry, he realized that this was the exact time he didn't want this to happen: she was vulnerable. "Akane, I want to be with you," her body tightened against him, "I care about ya' too much, though, to let you do this when you jus' wanna lash out." He also didn't want to be a rebound or a fling to hurt her father.

Akane was shaking. "I'm sorry," she whispered, and he closed his eyes resignedly, "I'm always lying to myself; always. I'm sorry…" she pulled back and forced him to turn and look at her. He opened his eyes, and saw that she wasn't crying, at least. "Ranma, I don't just want to lash out. I want to…" she trailed off, stroking his cheek with her small hand, "I want to be with you. All I've thought about these last few years is how much I wish you were back in my life."

Ranma felt like lashing out a little bit, but he kept his anger in check. "But, why didn't ya' call me?" he asked sternly.

"Because I was scared! And why didn't you call me? You stumble back into my sisters' lives and never contact me?" her voice was rising in volume.

"'Cause I was scared, too! I thought you hated me! Ya' practically said as much the last time I saw ya'!" He ground out through his clenched teeth.

Akane glared at him, and he saw the scar on her throat shimmer in the light as she shifted to fold her arms over her chest. "You lied to me." She said stiffly.

"Yeah, an' I tried t'make it better!" he folded his arms over his own chest and stared her down.

"Well, maybe I was really mad!" Akane spat out.

"Yeah, an' so was I!"

"Well fine!"

"Fine!" they both huffed and looked away from each other.

"Ranma?" Akane said after a moment. "Ranma, look at me!" she grabbed his chin and tugged until he was looking at her. He didn't much feel like it, he was feeling hurt – acknowledging how much of their… break up was her fault, too, had made him feel righteously angry, which was the stickiest kind of anger. "Look, we apologized for these things already. We were both at fault. You shouldn't have lied, but I shouldn't have kicked you out," she paused when his expression softened, "and Daddy shouldn't have been so cruel to you."

He nodded. She was right. They were only arguing because they didn't know how to behave otherwise. "Akane, I just really, really want you in my life." He said softly. "That's it, no matter in what capacity."

"I'm not leaving," she said softly. Ranma smiled up at her and hugged her to his chest, stroking her hair. "Let's go try to get some sleep, hm?" he nodded against her and she stood up, holding out her hand. He grasped it, and she hauled him to his feet. She went over and turned off the kitchen light, then grabbed his hand and led him into her room. They lay back down together, Ranma wrapping himself gingerly around her this time.


	32. Epilogue

Ranma awoke with a start in the dark room. He groaned at the taste in his mouth and rubbed his hand through his hair, still uncoiled from its braid. Stretching his arms to the ceiling, he popped his neck and sighed contentedly. "What're you doin' up?" Akane mumbled next to him. Ranma smiled down at her and ruffled her short hair. The bruises on her face were an ugly greenish-purple color, and her lip looked terrible, but she was healing.

"Nothin'," he lay back down and tucked her against him, "let's go back to sleep." Akane smiled and snuggled against him, closing her eyes. They lay like that for a while, until a knock disrupted them.

"I'll get it," Akane said softly; he tried to go himself, but Akane pushed him back down, "you're just in those shorts, don't worry." He smiled and watched her leave, enjoying the way her gi pants hugged her firm bottom.

Ranma was glad that they hadn't done anything last night, no matter how much his crotch screamed that he was insane for saying no. Deep down, he knew that they had been right to stop – that was too much, too fast. They needed to cool their heels a bit, fall into the relationship naturally.

Ranma lay back down, putting his arms behind his head and smiling as he heard the front door unlock. Besides, just sleeping next to her, waking up in her bed, had been enough for now. There would be all the time in the world for other indulgences.

"Can I help you?" Akane asked. There was a quietly murmured response. "I'm sorry, what's your name?" she sounded a bit miffed. Ranma frowned and threw off the blanket, standing up in the dim room.

"Yamato Arai, and you've destroyed my family." The reply sent Ranma into action. He dashed out of the room and ran, full-bore, towards the front door. Akane was standing there, just starting to take a step back. Yamato, looking like he hadn't slept all night, was just raising his arm up, something black and metallic just glimpsed in his grip. Ranma saw the crazy look in the man's eyes even before he registered the sound of a hammer being cocked back.

Akane's body started to reflexively fall to the floor to avoid the gun's blast, it went off, and Yamato's eyes rolled up in his head. And then Ranma realized that Yamato's gun hadn't gone off, someone else's had. Reaching Akane, he gathered her up and stepped quickly away as the older yakuza fell to the ground in heap of expensive cloths and blood, the back part of his head caved in front impact. Akane was breathing fast and shaking, and both of them were staring at the figure behind Yamato, gun smoking.

Kentaro Miike seemed just as surprised as them. His mouth worked as he tried to form the words to explain whatever had just happened.

Ranma whooped and threw a fist into the air, making both Akane and Kentaro jump. "Fuck man, nice fuckin' timing!"

"Ranma!" a familiar smack.

"Ow…"

END

FINAL TOUGHTS: HOLY CRAP IT'S DONE. I feel like my life has been nothing but this fanfiction for the last four days. Over time, I'm going to edit this fic so that it feels more "complete," but right now I need a break from Ranma and Akane and their damn antics.

The history of this fic starts a few years ago, when I started a story called _Shadows on Bedrock_. It was told entirely through first-person, Ranma narrating, and was very difficult to write. I gave up on it after a while, but the idea of Ranma as an adult never left my thoughts. Eventually, I just had to write it all out of my head. This story was not made up as I went along; the reason I was able to write it so fast is because it's been sitting at the back of my head for almost four years.

I'm really proud of myself for finishing it, and I feel pretty good about it.

For those of you who were hoping for a LEMON to crop up somewhere in there, I honestly had one all written out, and then I scrapped it. I think that sex scenes are a perfectly legitimate thing to have in a story, but somehow it just seemed sort of redundant. Of course they're going to end up together – they don't need to screw.

And anyone who feels that Ranma is overly-emotional in this fic, I agree with you. I'm trying to write someone, however, who is no longer a teenager, but an adult. I wanted Ranma to be more that a two-dimensional jock/shy-guy stereotype. I feel like, if he was separated from Akane for a few years and feeling depressed about it, he might get a little emotional. Then again, maybe he'd get angry and bitter – there's no telling, really, so I went with what I thought about a few years ago.

And now, for your edification, here are, in no particular order, some terms and references that you might have stumbled over when reading:

**Shoji:** sliding screens in traditional Japanese architecture made of wooden frames with [traditionally] rice paper pressed in between the frames

**Fusuma:** another sliding door, except solid; the fusuma is usually used to separate rooms, opened when people want to connect to rooms

**Hashi:** Chopsticks

**Futon:** flat bed on the floor; beloved of traditional Japanese homes and college students everywhere

**Nerima:** The birthplace of anime in Japan, and the setting for many manga and anime; it is one of the 23 "special wards" in Tokyo

**Kita:** Another "special ward;" slightly more metropolitan than Nerima

**Osaka:** A densely-populated city

**Kyoto:** A more traditional Japanese city; less densely-packed than other cities, and with a more conservative-leaning populace

**Street Warrior/Raiyu/Wen Feng/Jun-Li/Dangerous Target:** All thinly-veiled references to the game/1994 movie _Street Fighter_, and two of its characters, Ryu and Chun-Li. Wen Feng is the actual name of Byron Mann, the actor who played Ryu in the original film. _Dangerous Target_ is a reference to _Deadly Target_, a movie Byron Mann was in, that I haven't seen.

**Cell Phones:** I'm aware you know what these are, but for anyone who was confused as to why people had them in the nineties [like, if you were born in said nineties], these babies have been around since the 70's, but weren't super-popular until the mid-nineties.

**Sakaume-gumi/Designated "gangs":** The Sakaume-gumi is an actual yakuza gang based out of Osaka, and yes, they really are considered "designated." I'm not too clear on the political implications of this, but the basic idea is supposed to be that since the Sakaume-gumi and other designated gangs aren't killing and extorting people, the police leave them alone in favor of taking out the bigger fish. I like to imagine they'd be pretty pissed if someone was imitating them and besmirching their "good" name.

**Kaibutsu:** Aw, poor little puppy! His name means "monster," and he shares said name with my little Plecostomus [sucker-fish], though they are nothing alike. Kaibutsu is based off of Shiro-Kuro, Ryouga's family's dog.

**Aú/Arrastao/Capoeira/Graduado: **All real things. The aú is actually a cartwheel-like motion that is frequently used in Capoeira to keep your opponent off-guard. The arrastao is a leg sweep using both of the legs; you can probably find videos of it somewhere; it is also a move using the hands, to pull the opponent's legs out from under them. Capoeira is as it was described in the fic; an African-Brazilian martial art used by slaves, disguised as a dance; it is totally cool to watch. Graduado is the word for someone just above an aluno in Capoeira or student. A master is a "mestre."

**Front ball kick/Hammer fist/Front scoop kick/Sword hand:** All attacks from Kenpo, Ranma's preferred martial art [The School of Anything Goes or "Masubetsu Kakutou-Ryuu" is just the name for their particular school and style of Kenpo]. Front ball is kicking with the ball of the foot; hammer fist is striking with the outside of the little finger [almost like a direct punch]; front scoop kick is sort of like it sounds: you kick into your opponent's groin and up, grabbing their groin with the front of your foot and dragging them toward you; a sword hand is basically a "karate chop"

**Boxing someone's ears:** Is really painful, don't do it.

**Kiai/Sai!:** A kiai [pronounced like "key-eye-ee"] is a battle cry, meant to startle weaker opponents, or get you amped up for a fight; "SAI" is an obscure reference to _Diablo 2 _[no, I'm not kidding], and is the sound the Assassin makes when she attacks… I really, really like video games?

**Tetrodotoxin:** Hell yeah it's a real thing, just ask my microbiology major friend [actually, don't, he'd be weirded out if a stranger came up and asked him about it.] It's a poison found in quite a few animals, most notably the blue-ringed octopus and the fugu [puffer] fish. It's a neurotoxin, and it only takes about 25mg to kill someone Ranma's size. Yes, some doctors do use it to treat pain and things like heroin addiction. And yes, you could totally put it on a mochi and the poisoned person wouldn't even taste it – and if anyone did do that, they'd be a truly insidious bastard because tetrodotoxin poisoning is a horrendously painful way to die.

**Asukayama Park:** Totally a real park in Kita. It's big, full of over 1200 cherry trees of 20 different varieties. That little playground where the fight scene with Takahiro takes place is real; there are panoramic views of it on the internet.

_**Further Explanations:**_

**The Ending:** I'm aware there seems to be some loose ends, but I thought a whole bunch of scenes of Master Gyaru getting better, Souun letting Ranma back into the Tendou home, et cetera, would be tedious and boring. I wanted to end the story like a classic _Ranma ½_ episode, because, hey, they usually ended kinda surprising and goofily.

**Where's Ukyou?: **Pfft, I dunno. I don't like writing for her, and she always seemed like the most likely fiancée to stop being friends with Ranma when he "picked" Akane; I figured if his mom stepped in, she'd go away quietly and never come back out of fear of, you know, getting stabbed or something. I don't know! I just always thought she was a boring character to write for.

**Why all from Ranma's POV?:** Because Rumiko Takahashi has said so herself that _Ranma ½_ was going to be her first venture into writing for a male main character; I wanted to keep with the spirit of the _Ranma ½_ series, which is technically about Ranma, no matter what Tatewaki Kunou thinks.


End file.
